


Waiting, Waiting (Where the Wind Blows)

by likecrackingwater (1thetenfootlongscarf2)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Post-Nuclear War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-05-01 04:08:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 32,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5191598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1thetenfootlongscarf2/pseuds/likecrackingwater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world was razed by the acts of men. What crawled forth from that and lunches toward Bethlehem, with hissing words and shattered bones? There are people in the low hills and people from the sky. Go on, then. There are other worlds than these. </p><p>Post 2x16</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Well, you can't expect things to be normal after the bomb. Difficulties will be experienced throughout the duration of the emergency period. Normality will only be assumed after the cessation of hostilities. - Jim Where the Wind Blows_

* * *

Clarke left fourteen days ago, her back straight and and the setting sun looked like the edge of the world was aflame. 

She didn't turn back. Bellamy knew because he was too weak not to. She didn't turn or pause. He froze, like the first animal he had ever seen, a small bird with a red breast and two extra legs, twisted and crippled against its belly.

That was fourteen days ago. Now he shuffled between the kitchen and the scrap pile.  It was one thing to be a guard, a commander, even a murder; another to pull a leaver a watch a genocide. Monty went back to the mountain and pulled the data from the computers with a crew from the Ark. One man came back sobbing and didn't leave his cot for days. Some said it was the smell that got to him. Over three hundred rotting bodies, the fans pushing the sickly air out into the open. The Council must have seen the videos - the end at least, the plotting. Bellamy hiding in vents and burning men alive. And Lovejoy - all of them, the father and son who he knew and the mother he did not. How cold he must have seemed in that white hallway talking to the son of the man he killed. Maya never spoke to him more than she needed to. 

She was there when he killed Lovejoy. When he punched and bit and reached with grasping hands. The woman in the cage may have helped but Bellamy was the one who killed him. Who reveled in it, who was released through murder. He remembered the feeling of surprise when he looked at the dead man's eyes and was reminded of a deer he killed - the same dry blankness, the same sudden weight, the smell of piss. And he remembered turning to look at Maya and he saw in her what he felt when he met Lincoln for the first time.  _This is an animal_. 

Now he carried the trash from the kitchen to the pile a half mile away. The tall birds, the  _talfluc_ , who teetered on stick thin legs picking their way carefully though the trash, snapping up lizards, no longer held his interest. Griffin and Kane and a few others he never learnt the names of made the rules now. He promised Clarke he would take care of their people but he was suffering. He had no access to the guns or the lab Raven hid in. He was less than a janitor. Monty would sometimes sit next to Jasper in the mess and Bellamy would watch them all limp though each day. 

At night he would dream of the tunnel. He could see the track in front of him, smell the grounders sick with red, hear the hiss of compressed air. The cool rubber hands would grab him and drag him into the light. 

Sometimes he wished he would be haunted by the dead - that he felt more guilt and agony over the deaths he caused. But it was his own selfish pain he suffocated in. 

He offered Clarke forgiveness easily because he had to. He couldn't forgive himself because he was empty.

Lincoln met him behind the station ten days after Clarke left and offered to kill him. Bellamy could see the guilt in the man's face and refused.

"It would help you more than me," he said. Lincoln left on quiet feet.

Octavia begged him to talk more.

"I feel like you're ignoring us," and she would tug at the hem of her shirt, twist the fabric into knots. "You promised Clarke something. Are you doing it?"

"Yes." He could feel the world bending his back. His head hurt with the strain.

She frowned. "You're not helping yourself."

"I'm fine."

It was Abby who came to him that night. She pulled him from clenched sleep and walked him him to the creaking medical bed. The bay was cool and dimly lit in blue. He sat on the edge of it as she stood in front. She looked a bit careworn but strong. 

"Are you sleeping?"

 Bellamy sighed. "Yes." 

Her face hardened. "How are you sleeping?"

He rubbed his face, his eyes stinging and dry. Like the dead deer. Like Lovejoy. "Fine."

But Abby didn't leave like the others. She stood and looked at him. Her gaze was clinical, cool like the blue lights. 

"Franklen wanted to lock you up." 

Bellamy let that wash over him. 

"Kane wanted to put you in the guard. I wanted to give you a job with the crops, keep your hands and mind busy. Neek and Torton voted to put you at your old station."

"Majority rule?"

Abby nodded. "The most fair, we thought."

"Clarke didn't get tried." And Bellamy was tired suddenly, down to his bones. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right but he was here - Clarke-by-proxy. 

She put a hand to his wrist, his neck. Counting the beats. "I'm not a psychiatrist." Her touch was as cold as her gaze. It lacked the feeling that sent him hurtling awake. He followed her with his eyes but didn't move his head. 

"I know you're suffering Bellamy. It's alright if you want to talk about it."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You need to talk to someone. If you don't soon  - there are some things time cements that can't be fixed."

She took a step back. Bellamy sagged where he sat. He didn't feel tired. He just felt worn.

If there were ghosts at least that would be something to talk about. But he wasn't haunted, wasn't grieving. He was hollow, like a  _talfluc_ bone, light and empty. 

Abby watched him and Bellamy suddenly saw how alien she was. She came from a sterile place and had sterile thoughts.  _There are no good guys_. Was that true? What did the grounders say?  _Stedaunon don gon we; kikon ste enti._

He remembered the cages, the cries in the dark. He could see the bright eyes of the grounder across from him and remembered how he felt. To the Mountain Men he was a grounder. And the woman across from him met his eyes and hissed  _kron bilaik fas om woda. _  
__

He looked at Abby Griffin and grasped for a response. 

"Time is a face on the water."

"What does that mean?" She only looked politely confused. 

"Time..." Bellamy looked at his hands. They were still. He felt like they should be shaking. "Time, it changes things."

Abby took one of his hands. They looked soft next to his. Unreal. His knuckles were knobby, the skin marred with thin silver scars. 

"Bellamy, time doesn't heal on it's own. An untreated arm will set wrong," she rubbed his hand briskly then set it down. "I don't want you sick."

He met her eyes again. _Kron bilaik fas om woda._

"I need time."

Abby shook her head.

"You won't get the time you need here. You need a better environment. We took a vote," the Council, "and I've suggested something that might help - you need space and we need... we need support Bellamy. The Tree People betrayed us and we are close to their land."

They were banishing him. The reason didn't matter, Kane needed allies or Griffin punishing him for letting her daughter go. 

"What do you mean?" His voice did not shake.

"There are a few groups still in the alliance - the one Lexa set up hasn't collapsed completely. A few of the guard will take you to Tondc."

She smiled at him. She had perfect teeth.

"The groups there will get to argue it out but you get final say. Where you go. It's a cultural exchange, of sorts. Like Octavia."

Bellamy didn't have it in him to argue that Octavia did what she did through choice and curiosity. He just sighed. He remembered what he promised Clarke. Was he protecting those left while he lurked in the shadows, reminding the whole camp of what they all lost?  

"When do I go?" When will he return? They must have hoped never.

Abby patted his knee. It felt like her hand was made of wood. Lifeless. "Dawn."

Bellamy didn't have a clock. There were no windows in the bay. He couldn't see the sky.

"When is that?"

Abby looked at her watch. "Ten minutes."

He didn't have the energy to feel betrayed. "I don't suppose I get to say goodbye."

"I'm afraid there won't be time for that."

Bellamy closed his eyes. "And packing?"

"Everything you need will be provided." _No guns_ , he heard, _no way to communicate_. Exiled.

The doors hissed open behind her. Bellamy met Kane's eyes over her shoulder. There were seven guards behind him. 

"This is vital, Bellamy," he said. Abby stepped back. It was a calculated move. 

"I know." One of the guards pulled out cuffs. They were not the standard prisoner cuffs, but the medical ones that fit over hands like mitts, the fingers safely cradled inside. They expected him to struggle. Bellamy might have two weeks ago. 

But he remembered her back as she walked away, the long shadow she cast. As she left the world looked like it was burning. 

He wouldn't fight. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

There is no easy way to walk in the cold with hands bound. The guard ignored him, kept the pace steady. A day by horse and three by foot. At the rate they were going Bellamy expected them to make it by noon on the second day.

They walked out of the gates of camp while the grass was still wet. The dew soaked the hems of their pants and weighed them down. His boots dragged. The cuffs pulled his shoulders forward and made an ugly ache across the top of his back. Every two hours they would stop to drink water.

Bellamy had never been to Tondc and the paths kept changing in the dappled wood.

He was lost by the second water break. If he managed to escape the cuffs would kill him through starvation.

One of the guard had to help him drink. The mitts would have only led to humiliation if he tried. The third time they stopped the task fell to Willis. They were recruits together. Now Willis was a guard and Bellamy was... this.

It felt like longer than a year and two months passed. Willis had always had a baby face, looked younger than nineteen. Now his face was almost too thin, his hair brittle. Lack of good food. Bellamy remembered seeing it in the first hundred.  Too much meat and not enough green.

"You need to open your mouth," Willis held up the bottle. Bellamy stared at him.

Willis shifted uncomfortably.

"I can make you drink if you refuse." It sounded more like an apology than an order. "Please."

Bellamy thought about saying something. Instead he opened his mouth.

"Thanks," Willis grinned. "We'll be there soon. And it's be cool, living with the grounders for a while."

Bellamy licked his lips.

"I'm coming back?"

Willis' smile faltered. "Of course. Why wouldn't you?"

Bellamy looked away. The forest was never still. When he first arrived he was surprised how loud everything was. Birds and insects and the moans of the trees in the dark. On the Ark the only constant sounds were the engines and the air units. There was always a slight current to the way the air moved. Here, on the ground, Bellamy knew what books meant when they said the world stilled.

 By noon the sun was bright. Sweat dripped down Bellamy’s back and pooled in the cuffs. The foam padding inside felt slick and sickly when he tried to move his hands. Willis was keeping an eye on him – Bellamy could feel the gaze heavy on his back. Some of the other guards were pointedly ignoring him. He wondered what they had been told. Would they ask questions if no grounders went back with them? Or maybe Kane and Griffin already had an explanation in place.

Majority rule. Fairness. What about this was fair? Bellamy’s socks were wet and he could feel his feet sliding slightly in his boots. There was no way he could tighten the laces. He wouldn’t ask for help. He though of muddy marches and skin peeling away with socks to expose rotting feet. Less than two full days. He could wait.

The paths out of Camp Jaha were thin. Deer paths. When he first arrived Bellamy found good hunting though dumb luck. Reading about hunting and tracking only prepares one so much for the real thing. The Earth Skills were severely lacking after ninety seven years removed from their source.

He looked for signs but they moved too quickly. Here and there he sees the flash of a run, the earth worn under bushes and between thin trees. But the deer trails are glaring. If enough heavy bodies walk the same way the grass becomes flattened. If they wound the same way for a few months – a path like the one they were walking on now would appear. The oldest guard, Briggs, pulled out a map. They cut through a clearing to another path. This one was a bit wider. There were rocks poking up though the layer of dust. They had been smoothed by years of walking.

The sun started to sink. Bellamy’s stomach growled. The noise was annoying, and the pain something he could ignore. He wasn’t truly hungry. He had eaten last night. He could last until Tondc. He wouldn’t let the guard feed him.

Briggs called for a halt. It struck Bellamy that he knew every guard. He had met each of them at least three times. His former allies were walking him to his banishment.

Briggs pointed to a spot about four feet from the path.

“We’ll camp here.” He reached for Bellamy’s cuffs.

Bellamy jerked back.

“It’s alright, son.” Briggs said. “They don’t have to know we took them off.”

The man looked around the group with a level gaze.

“It’s that right?”

There was no dissent. Willis was fishing the key out of his pocket.

“No, thank you.” Bellamy said.

It was cooler under the trees, and the distrust settled over it like a shroud.

“'no, thank you’” Briggs repeated. “You mean you don’t want me to take these cuffs off?”

Bellamy looked around the group. Seven guards – Willis, Briggs, Fuank, Milles, Deleria, Whippet, Cooker. They same expression – confusion with a layer of distrust. What honest person would not want cuffs removed?

“That's right.”

“And how do you expect to eat?” Briggs sounded disappointed. “I’m not going to ask anyone to feed you.”

Deleria shot Fuank a disgusted look. It would be insulting for all of them if Bellamy had to be spoon fed.

“I’ll be fine until we get to Tondc.” He said. “We should be there by tomorrow, right?”

Briggs shrugged helplessly. “Fine Bellamy. If you don’t want to eat I can’t make you. But this isn’t a punishment.”

Bellamy met the man’s stare with his own.

“Isn’t it?” Whippet asked. “I mean, why is Bellamy cuffed anyway?”

“So he don’t run off.” Fuank said. “His arrival is the way to prove to the grounders we’re honest.”

“In cuffs?” Deleria laughed. “It make us all look bad. The Ark shouldn’t be using criminals to solve problems.”

Bellamy leaned against a tree. The dying light filtered through the leaves. He could feel the change from warm to cool as the shadows flickered. Whippet awkwardly cleared his throat.

“What if he escapes?” Willis spoke up.

“He can’t escape.” Fuank snapped.

“What if I drop the key? The he picks it up and none of us notice?”

Willis turns to Briggs.

“No.” Bellamy shook his head. “I’m going to Tondc. If you want to take the cuffs off when we get there fine, but leave them on for now.”

Briggs nodded.

Milles protested. “He needs to eat.” He had been in the training class above him, Bellamy remembered.

“And he needs to make his own choices.” Briggs pulled out a length of wire. “I’ll tie you to the tree. No one needs to watch you tonight.”

Bellamy understood. His last night of freedom. The offer felt more pitting than the kindness Briggs probably intended.

Bellamy sank down. The tree loomed above him. Now he was too low for the light to reach. Above him butterflies flew in jagged lines between the trees.

Milles dug a pit and stared a fire. It would be just large enough to cook the rashons and keep them warm. They were too close to the path to hide. Bellamy kept his eyes on it the entire time. As the sun sank below the edge of the world a team of grounders rode past. They quickly came to a halt.

Briggs stood quickly.

“I am Briggs, of the Sky People. You are welcome to eat with us, if you like.”

The grounders looked at each other.

The leader nodded and the other two followed her off the trail. They tethered their horses to the tree next to Bellamy.

He watched the horses with interest. They were of purer stock then the ones he had seen at the dropship. They don’t have extra legs or odd growths. The eyes are clear and intelligent. He remembered how he was able to see the thought leech out from Lincoln's eyes. The way the other man shuddered and relaxed into the darkness. He remembered the wails as they were scoured. He remembered how he screamed.

“I am Siggy of the Low Hills. “ The woman gestured to her companions. “There is Thya and Rhoon.”'

She had a narrow face and narrow eyes but her mouth was kind. Thya was large, larger than Briggs. A hill of a woman. Rhoon looked like every other grounder Bellamy had ever met - quiet and carved from stone.

“It’s good to meet you.” Briggs said. “These are my people.” He pointed them out as he named them. He didn’t pause as he skipped over Bellamy.

Sggy looked a Bellamy with curiosity but she did not mention him.

The grounders pulled out dried food, fruit and meat, with small rolls. Deleria showed off the ration packs, the soy blocks suspended in broth. Rhonn gingerly stabbed one with a knife and tried it. His face showed slight surprise.

Willis sat down next to Bellamy. He did it was a casual air that Bellamy saw right through.

“Are you doing okay?” Willis asked.

Bellamy looked him over. His pants were soaked from the knees down, his boots slick with mud. As he flexed his hands the bones creaked.

“You need to chew limestone.” Bellamy said quietly.

“What?”

“Your bones are weak. Clarke would have us suck on these rock to give us calcium. They're white but make yellow dust. A lot of rivers have them at the bottom. It flakes like flint. And you need more sun.”

“Okay.” Willis stretched. His back popped like snapping twigs. “But, really. How are you?”

Bellamy looked over the fire to the grounders. Their furs gave them a bulky appearance. The women had harsh scars on their cheeks. All three had long hair worn in braids. Each had at least two weapons he could see. They sat with a tense, nervous energy. Most he met wouldn’t know English. A stranger in a strange land.

“I’m fine.”

Siggy met his eye. They started at each other for a moment. The other two grounders noticed and followed her line of sight. The three watched Bellamy in the deepening dark. Most of the guard gathered opposite the horses and started unpacking the tents. Willis didn't move.

Without looking away from him, Siggy rolled her shoulders. “Why do you have a captive?”

Briggs swallowed a soy cube heavily. “He’s not a prisoner. He’s going to another group for training.”

Her back straightened and her gaze became sharp. “What kind of training?”

“We need people who understand your culture so we can work together – people who know your language and customs.”

Siggy nodded. “I see. What is your name?”

Bellamy swallowed. “ _Ai laik Belomi kom Skaikru_.”

Siggy blinked slowly. “Passible.”

She turned to Thya and spoke too quickly for Bellamy to follow. Rhoon was ignored. He tipped his head back and watched the sky.

“Are the bound hands part of the exchange ritual?” Rhoon asked.

Willis snuck a glance at Bellamy.

Briggs stroked the fire. “Yes. He also won’t eat until he is given to the new clan. Um, group. Crew.”

When Bellamy was a cadet there were some trails - extra laundry in the new members bins, soap cakes inside boots. He took them more seriously than the rest. If one of the guard thought to prank his quarters they would find Octavia and all would be lost. This walk turned would turn the beating he got for ratting into a fond memory. He checked Willis out of the edge of his sight. _Remember when you cornered me in a warehouse, Willis? How fun that was._   

“Hum,” Siggy nodded. “A trial of strength. I am glad the Sky People are taking such things seriously. Will you being taking back any other _kru_?”

Briggs looked at Siggy’s companions. “We were given no instruction, but I will accept on behalf of my group. My _kru_. My leaders, Kane and Griffin especially, want to create peace.”

Siggy cut a dried apple into pieces. “If I trade one of my _gona_ with you, would you give me the boy?”

“No. We must go to Tondc – the purpose is to give him a choice.”

“Why would he get a choice?” Thya looked from Briggs to Deleria to Willis. Bellamy felt the guard tense next to him.

Briggs started collecting the trash and packing it in a zippouch. He was stalling for time, Bellamy realized. This entire conversation was built on lies and would collapse with the addition of the truth.

“The clans will have the opportunity to tell him what education they can offer him. He needs to pick the one who will teach him the most.”

Siggy grinned. “I will teach the boy much. More than most women he has met.”

Deleria chocked on her soy cube. Bellamy only blinked.

Siggy looked pleased. “But my _kru_ was not invited, so I will participate next time.  If that is allowable to you _heda_?” This she directed at Briggs.

“It is, and I will pass your request along.”

“Good. Rest well. Don’t swallow your fears.”

The grounders made a slanted shelter out of a large hide. The guard huddled into two tents. Soon the sounds of sleep fell. The hum that the forest made seemed to ebb like engines of the Ark.

Bellamy sat in the darkness and watched the moon rise.


	3. Chapter 3

Tondc was a swarm of activity. There were more people than Bellmay had seen since the Ark. There was every kind of noise. Voices rose and fell like a poor signal on a radio. He tried to catch words he recognized, the sounds hissing familiar in his mind. They slipped away from him like river fish. The guard looked around, guns tucked close.

Siggy and her band rode ahead. Following them made the walk go faster. They had even skipped the last water break. Bellamy could feel the strange floating quality of dehydration. His hands spamazed in his cuffs. Sometime during the night his socks had dried. He could feel the stiffness as he walked. The others had cleaned their boots to regulation shine before they set off.

None of the guard tried to talk to him when they woke. He had fallen asleep looking up and woke before dawn chocking on nonexistent water. 

When they reached the outer buildings Siggy let out a whooping cry. The Sky group stopped behind her. When she dismounted two grounders walked over. They held themselves like leaders. Rhonn led Siggy’s horse away. Thya sat tall and looked around from her vantage point. The guard created a circle around Bellamy. Briggs took the front. The nape of his neck was cut unevenly. Siggy spoke quickly to the newcomers, gesturing to Brigss’ group occasionally.

One of the men was shaking his head but the other looked interested.

He walked over to the group. Siggy followed close behind. The other man wandered away, soon distracted by others.

“I would like to see the boy.” The sides of his head were shaved, curing tattoos bright on exposed scalp.

Bellamy stepped forward. The cuffs made his hands ache. He could hear from somewhere nearby a song he recognized. Some of the grounders sang it in the cages. The Highlands People. The chorus drew him in. There was the ghost of the chemical smell, the clinical, sharp stench only found with tile floors and gleaming metal. He blinked it away.

The grounder stood in front of him. Briggs had stepped aside. The nameless man looked him over then turned to Bellamy, took in his cuffs, his dirty boots. “You have seen war?”

Bellamy clenched his jaw. “I have seen some.”

“Are you experienced?”

There was the urge to lash out. He experienced suffering that no one on the Ark could have dreamed. They didn’t have the capability – but anger would do him no good here.

“Two months worth.”

The grounder laughed. “Only two months?” He reached forward and ripped Bellamy’s shirt open. Briggs jerked slightly, finger slipping into the trigger guard. Siggy shook her head and he dropped the muzzle. Bellamy tried not to react. He remembered Abby’s cool eyes, cool touch. Her judgment rested like a wet cloth. Heavy, suffocating.  Medical.

“Turn around.”

Bellamy did. The air was not cold yet he still had to suppress a shudder. This judgment was a slap – sudden and stinging and personal in an ugly way. Mocking.

“No kills?” No. He turned back to the man. His face showed nothing but the stillness of a lake. 

“The Sky People do not keep track,” Siggy strolled to the grounders’ shoulder. Her gaze bored into Bellamy but he didn’t try to meet her eye.

“This is not a trainable boy,” the grounder shook his head, “even though he may be large enough. This is a child, a babe.”

“So you would not train him?” Siggy asked. Willis looked around nervously. The rest of the guard struggled to remain stoic.

“No. I would not.” He patted Siggy’s shoulder and walked away. Thya wached him go. When he was gone she leaned down and whispered to Siggy. The woman nodded and looked at the guard.

Briggs was struggling to hide his dismay.

Siggy turned to him. Her smile was bared teeth, as crooked as Abby’s were perfect. “See? What you offer is too low.”

Briggs stood firm. “This boy is one of the first sent down to the planet from our ship. He taught himself how to hunt, to fight.  He is raw, yes, but isn’t raw material the best to work with?”

Siggy stopped grinned. She look pensive. “Perhaps.”

She tugged the other Thya’s sleeve. She dismounted and the two women spoke quietly as they walked away, weaving through the crowds.

Briggs turned to Bellamy. “I’m sorry about that. We were told that you have to go with a clan. The alliance depends on it.” He rubbed his face. “The only instruction is that we can’t return with you. I’m sorry.”

Bellamy nodded. He should have expected nothing less.

“We should take the cuffs off.” Willis said. “He’ll look less like a prisoner that way.”

Deleria help him remove them. Bellamy flexed his hands.

His knuckles popped and he felt the strain in his shoulders trickle down his back like water.

Briggs gestured with his gun.

“The sooner we finish the sooner we all get home.”

The group moved forward and Bellamy recalled _once more unto the breech, dear friends, once more._


	4. Chapter 4

It was Harper who came to her. Her movements were stiff and eyes squinting in the morning light. Abby said the damage – it was severe. Try as she might, Harper would never run again.

“Where’s Bellamy?” The words were whispered so only Octavia could hear.

“Around.” Octavia stood with her back to the fence. She could hear the high, thin hum of power. From one cage to another.

“I haven’t seen him.” Harper looked wain. Her bones must hurt.

“He spends most of his day moving trash around.” Octavia tried not to think of how empty he looked after Clarke left. “I don’t see him much either.”

A group of guards argued by the tables. One was gesturing south, his face twisted in anger.

Lincoln walked around them. His back was slightly hunched. Octavia waited for him to come to her. She had been waiting since the walk back from the mountain, when he appeared fatigued and blood stained and free. He didn’t say what happened, just that he was no longer a member of the Tree Clan.

“You’re a Sky Person,” Octavia has said, and clutched his hand tight in hers.

Bellamy had passed them. He followed Clarke like a shadow. The further the group moved the more relaxed he looked and the more distance shuttered Clakre’s eyes.

Now Lincoln crossed the open space to stand with her and Harper. The camp had been subdued these past weeks. Loss sank into the ground.

“Have you seen Bellamy today?”

Octavia flinched. “No.” There was nothing wrong. “I haven’t. Are you looking for him?”

Lincoln shook his head. “No. No, no. Green is. Said they were supposed to meet after breakfast and he never came.”

“Bellamy hasn’t been reliable lately.” Octavia clenched her fists. “He must be nearby.”

Harper trembled as she moved. Her nerves had been shredded with the careless drilling. Abby had called it fibromyalgia and said there was nothing to be done.

“I convinced Rudy to go to the pile,” she confessed. “She said there was no one there.”

“He doesn’t hunt.”

Octiva shook her head. “We’ll check the guns, but I know he’s fine.” Fear was clawing through her chest. It tore her heart open.

She remembered how Bellamy looked after Murphy tried to hang him, the stark burse and bloodshot eyes.

“Hanging is painful.” That was what he said as they huddled in the tent. “It hurts and you feel everything. Like you live as much as possible before you die.”

“I’m sorry!” She had cried and hugged him close.

“I can understand why Anna Karenia jumped in front of the train.” They didn’t speak for the rest of the night.

Now Octavia shuddered. No. He wouldn’t. There were no trains, anyway. A gun hadn’t gone off in five days.

“Maybe he went after Clakre,” Lincoln suggested. He frowned, rubbed his hands together. Octavia wanted to reach out and touch them. He looked fragle in clothes from the Ark, an odd mix of sky and dirt.

“He wouldn’t.” She knew it. “He made her a promise. He was keeping it.”

“Was he?” Octavia had forgotten Harper was there, shivering at nothing. “Just… he looked so lost O. Like when she left she took him with her.”

Lincoln laughed. It was an ugly, chocked sound. “I doubt even Clarke, with all her power, can take a man’s _keryon_.”

The three stood with their backs to the field. A breeze sent the washing flapping on the lines. The cloth snapped loudly and scared a bird from the trash cart. It was full. No one had emptied it in at least two days.

“Is Bellamy the only one who goes to the pile?” Octavia asked Harper.

She nodded. “The Council took a vote – they didn’t want to punish him, but most didn’t want to reward him like Kane suggested.”

“So they gave him his old job back,” the disgust shook something loose in her, set it clattering down the jagged edges of her control.

“Yeah. But he was fine with it. Monty asked him. You know, after Clarke… after she went away.”

“He was always fine.” Octavia’s voice was bitter.

Lincoln rubbed the back of his head.

“If he’s gone, he needed to go.”

“Really?” She didn’t mean to sound so frantic. “Clakre left but he _stayed_. He was supposed to stay. He’s always stayed.”

Harper pulled her light jacket tighter around her. “I’ll go ask around. Someone must have seen him leave. He might have taken something.”

Octavia ignored her. The sun was sharp in her eyes and she could feel them water. She would not cry. 

Lincoln touched her shoulder lightly. She barley felt it. “And maybe that’s why he needed to go.”

“Oh, so he could just _gon we_ then?”

“What he did is more than leaving…”

“That’s right.” They ignored the way her voice shook. “He quit. Just like Clarke. They gave up and left and –“

“He’s not the same.” Lincoln wasn’t looking at her now. His eyes were fixed on the trampled grass. “I saw them take him away. I know how they treated him – but he never… I remember everything, but there’s a haze, like a dream. There is no dream to hind behind for him.”

“Didn’t you… couldn’t you help him? You’ve both been tortured by those bastards. Why didn’t you -”

“I offered to kill him.” Lincoln interrupted. “And he said ‘no’.”

Octavia blanched. “Kill him? What is wrong with you?”

“He said it would help me more than him.”

“Look at me,” she snarled. “What if he wanted to do it himself?”

Lincoln shook his head. He looked pale, like his blood had been drained. “He won’t, but dying is no weakness.”

“Isn’t it?” She remembered Bellamy’s interest in empires, the morals of dead men. But those old ideas held honor above all – and it was more honorable to die at your own hand than another’s. Not to Octavia. That would be cowardly. Dying was easy. Living was the struggle.

“Not to my people. There is no life without death.”

Octavia turned away. The tables were almost full. Breakfast had just been served. She could hear the chatter even this far. The hundred, or those left, finally looked their age. Young, scared.

“So, he’s gone.”

“For now.”


	5. Chapter 5

The building was low and a perfect circle. The walls were large wood panels that looked warm in the light of the fire. Briggs stood behind him. In front of them sat four grounders. They sat on woven mats. They were impassive, carved from stone.

Siggy stood to the side, reviling in the chance to play ringleader.

“The boy will not be allowed to talk until he makes a selection – all questions should be directed to his clanmate, Briggsa.”

The grounder of the far left raised her voice.

“Why is his hair so short?”

“It is the way all Sky people wear it.”

The one next to her rumbled, “How is his grasp of Trigedasleng?”

Briggs shifted uncomfortably. “Poor. But he is a quick learner.”

“What weapons can he use?” This was the next woman. She had cold eyes.

“He is one of the best shots in our clan.”

She shrugged. “Short bow? Long bow?”

“Guns,” Briggs said. “He is skilled with guns.”

A displeased muttering started.

Siggy clapped her hands once. “I was told he is clever, strong, and adapts well. He is raw material – and this exchange would be indefinite on his end. You may teach him what you deem necessary.”

The whispering ceased. Bellamy tried to feel calm. He heart was fast in his chest. The last time him had been this afraid, this alone he was being dragged from the cage to the Mountain Men could steal his blood.

“Must we follow the Sky People’s methods of training?”

Briggs shot Bellamy a nervous look. He must have been there when Octavia tried to prove herself.

“No,” he said. “The point is to treat him like a member of your tribe.”

The first woman nodded. “And the rules of this – when should we return him? With what skills?”

Siggy stepped towards her. “When you deem him ready. Not a day sooner.”

Briggs clenched a fist. Bellamy thought that Briggs must have finally realized the Council’s true intention. He had just given the grounders carte blanche over a citizen of the Ark – for as long as they wanted.

Siggy looked at the leaders coolly. “Are there any more questions?”

The leaders looked at each other and shook their heads.

“Then, Briggsa, please step outside.”

Brigss took a step foward, partially blocking Bellamy from their view. “Why?”

“The boy must make the choice, you said. If you are here he may want to choose what you want. Leave, Briggsa. You work here is over.”

His hand dropped to where his gun would rest. It had been left with the rest of the guard.

“Will I see him after he chooses?”

Siggy shrugged. “It is up to his new _kru_.”

Briggs’ shoulders sagged. He turned to the leaders, who sat still and calm. “Thank you for this opportunity.” He slowly walked to Bellamy. “I’m sorry, son.” He was whispering. “This is so far out of my hands…. Just come back, when you can. I’ll tell your sister everything.”

Bellamy looked straight ahead. He did not speak.

Briggs reached out and clasped his shoulder. “Do your best, Blake.”

Then he passed him and was gone. The walls echoed with the sound of the door slamming.

Siggy turned to the leaders. “Say what you will.”

She sat down and began to sharpen a knife.

The woman who asked the first question stood. Bracelets clattered on her arms. Her face looked clear, but he could see the shadow of scars cast by the light.

“I am Gustian, of the Ridgeline People.” She smiled. Her front teeth were filed. “We are skilled in shooting. I can give you enough training in four turns that will let you return home in honor. Your grasp of _gonasleng_ is impressive. I would want you to tutor my warriors.”

The next stood. His hair was piled into a bun and his face was lined with ink. “Ulrei of Hud Son River. I will train you personally as well. It will take you a year and mold you into a skilled hunter. My people are good with fish and traveling on water. During the winter you may go to your people. But you would have to return come spring.”

The third stood. She was slight a lathe, her face with the curing lines of the Maroi. Bellamy had seen pictures of them on the Ark. “I am Jefsun of Mont Cello. I cannot offer you the comfort the others have. I will not train you myself – it would waste my time and yours. You will not speak English – you already know it and you are not here to learn things you already know. I can promise you will be fed and housed and trained like any member of my _kru_. You will return to your people after you are skilled enough.”

The next man did not stand. He face was twisted with distate. “I offer nothing. I do not want to deal with this folly. I know you are banished – I heard you were brought here in chains. I will not stain my _kru_ with your dishonor.”

The other three sat as he left the same way Briggs did.

Bellamy felt something kick in his chest. It would be easy to go four months, to just learn how to hunt. But he needed to put the tunnel and the cages behind him. “I know where I want to go. I choose _kru_ Mont Cello.”

Siggy nodded. She had a new look in her eye. Bellamy was not sure it was respect, but he liked to think he had earned something.

Siggy led him forward with a hand on his elbow.

“What do you want to learn?”

“I want to learn how to fight. I want my strength back…” He looked at the leaders. “I went into battle and was captured. While there I learnt the Sky People are more like the grounders than I expected.”

“What happened?”Gustian, with her chiming bracelets, asked.

“I killed a man. When he died I saw he was no different than a deer.”

Ulrei nodded. “While your people are not like us, you have learned something important.” He looked to Jefsun. “I have no power over your new _kru-hef_ , but I request that Naime train him. I imagine you will not be disappointed.”

Jefsun pursed her lips. “Do you accept this, boy?”

Bellamy nodded.

“Good,” Siggy said. “It is decided.”

The three leaders gathered and conversed for a few seconds. The Jefsun walked towards him, hands outstretched.

“Come with me boy.”

Bellamy followed.

She stopped him in front of the door. The handle was shiny with use.

“The minute we step out of this door you may no longer speak _gonasleng_. You have not earned the right.”

They she opened the door.


	6. Chapter 6

Octavia was laying on the floor of Raven’s lab when the guard returned.

“What are you going?” She was asked when Raven came back from lunch.  

“Just relaxing.” The floor was slightly cool on her damp skin.

“Sounds nice. No work for you today?”

Octavia laughed. “I’m avoiding it.”

“Are you avoiding it or him?” Raven pulled out a blueprint of a new walkie. Octavia made a face she hoped Raven wouldn't see.

“Lincoln’s not here. He went to look for Bell.”

That caused Raven to look up. “He did?”

“They might never be friends, but Bellamy didn’t just vanish – something happened.”

“Jasper thinks he want after Clarke.” The paper crinkled as she set it on the lab bench.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Raven shrugged. “I’m not sure it’s true but nothing else makes sense.”

Octavia wanted to argue. Clarke had tried to kill Bellamy, but the words didn't come.

She was interrupted when Monty slammed through the door, Harper on his heels.

“The guard’s back. Briggs needs to talk to you, Octavia, right now.”

“What?” Octavia pushed herself up.

Harper stumbled forward and sank into a chair. “It’s about Bellamy. You need to _run_.”

Octavia shot to her feet. “Where are they?”

“By the gate. Jasper’s trying to distract the Council.”

She used the lab bench to help Octavia up.

“I’m right behind you,” Raven promised and grabbed something from the bench. Octavia sprinted though the door. She could hear Monty next to her. People scrambled out of the way as they moved.

“You need to get to Briggs.” He gasped. “Everyone else is going to lie.”

She wanted to ask what he know,  _how_ he knew, but there was no time. Her footfalls caused the floor to ring.

There was commotion in the green just inside the gate. Abby Griffin was yelling at a young guard. He cowered as she spoke. There were four grounders too. One sat on a horse, looking like a giant. She had ugly scars on her cheeks and a nose almost flat. The other three must have walked. They had the thickest face markings Octavia had ever seen, black and swirling. 

Monty grabbed Octavia’s elbow and dragged her to the right, around the grounders. Briggs was messing with a tent. When he saw then he gestured to them quickly. They crouched next to him. Octavia could see now that he was untying and retying the same bit of rope. 

“I don’t have much time,” he hissed. “Kane’ll be here soon. The Council tried to get rid of Bellamy.”

He help up a hand when Octavia tried to protest.

“Just listen. They had us take him to Tondc and give him to a grounder clan. Griffin said it was to strengthen ties. I don’t know what clan he’s with. The gounders didn’t talk to Bellamy until I left the room.”

“Why didn’t you try anything?”

“We were locked up. None of use saw him leave. Thya - the one on the horse - she said that her leader knows where he may have gone... but Siggy's not talking."

Octavia started to pace but given up before she took three steps. 

"I can we do? If we leave now we can make it to..."

Briggs shook his head. "He's gone, for now. We need to wait this out. I know the kids won't be happy and the Council is going to have a hell of ..." He trailed off, distracted by something behind her. He turned to Monty. "Get her out of her."

Octavia twisted to see Kane crossing the open space. His smile was charming but his eyes were hard as glass.

Raven was there, pulling on her elbow. "You can hide in the lab." 

They walked casually away as Monty shielded them from view. Octavia could see the grounders watching them out of the corner of her eye. 

They heard Kane talking to Briggs, he voice sharp, but the words were unclear.

"They look so pissed," Monty glanced around. "Either something went wrong or it worked too well."

"I think it worked too well." Raven said. "Harper told me they didn't expect  _any_ grounders back - much less three from one group."

Octavia sped up. "Could that be the one that Bellamy went to?"

Monty shrugged. 

"It's possible," Raven mused. "Or it could be the one of the horse. But I think the grounders thought the Council was sincere."

Monty laughed. 

Octavia slapped his arm. "It's not funny."

"It is," he insisted. "They wanted to get rid of Bellamy - maybe they thought he was a problem. But now they have four grounders from clans we've never head of. That's... that's irony."

"And don't worry." Raven threw her arm over Octavia's shoulders. "He'll be returned in less than a week. he's not grounder-happy as you are."

Octavia sighed. "He'd better. When the rest find out..."

Monty shot her a concerned look. 

"There's going to be a riot," she explained. "It was alright when Clarke left because Bellamy was here. Now that he's gone..."

Raven squeezed her close. "He's not gone. Not yet. We'll get him back."

The walk back to the lab was slower, quieter. Raven opened the door with a wave of her hand. 

Harper was still sitting. Wick supported her shaking hands as she drank a cup of water.

"You can sleep in my room, if you want." She offered as they entered.

Octavia shook her head. "I'll stay in here. No one will look in this mess for a while."

Wick gently set the cup down.

"Is it true? That they sent Bellamy away to control the rest of you."

Raven just looked a him with tired eyes. 

"Fuck." He rubbed his faced, kuckled his eyes. "Fuck. This is crazy."

"We think there's a way to get to Bellamy -" Monty began.

"No," Wick sighed. He sank down until he was sitting on the ground, head resting next to Harper's knees. "None of you are allowed outside the fence. Guard's be doubled and you'll get up in the hold for any infraction."

Octavia was furious. "They can't do that. Besides, there's too many of us!"

Raven shook her head. "There's only forty two, O. And how many will want to fight, even for Bellamy?"

That stopped Octavia. "What do you mean, 'even for Bellamy'?"

Monty stepped between them. "Hold on guys."

Raven spoke over him. "They're tired.  _We're_ tried O. It's only been, what? Sixteen days? This is too soon to rally up a revolt. And they don't deserve it."

The world was blurred. Octavia wasn't crying. She couldn't cry. "Bellamy didn't deserve this either. He didn't deserve any of this. He wouldn't have been down here if it weren't for me."

Monty was pulled her close, his arms tight around her. "It's alright." His voice was quiet. "It's going to be okay."

Octavia sobbed into his arms. 


	7. Chapter 7

Bellamy never saw the guard before they left. Jefsun told him that she spoke to Briggs. She swore it, actually, as the cold light of dusk blinded him. She insisted the trade was an honorable one. Usually children were traded, she had told him, and kept for years at a time to be returned as practically strangers. This occurred only during peacetime and not so soon after war. Lexa had done what some thought impossible by bringing the twelve together.

 Looking at the horses they rode out on Bellamy guessed Jefsun sent three grounders back with the guard to Camp Jaha. With Siggy’s woman that would be four. Four more than The Council expected. The thought cheered him slightly. There was no delay between stepping though the door and joining the Mont Cello  _kru_. Getting on the horse was not difficult, and he made sure to remember that they left from the west gate of Tondc.

Bellamy felt awake for the first time since he left the mountain. The sun was setting as they rode. He could see the color for what felt like the first time, the same awe as the dropship doors fell away. There was a bite to the air he didn’t expect. Fall was next; falling leaves, failing crops, longer nights. He worried about the camp. The walls were insulated for space but there was no controlled climate anymore. Rations wouldn’t last long either. Monty and his parents would do what they could… He had to stop thinking about them. Thanks to Kane and Griffin he wasn’t part of camp anymore. Wasn’t _Skaikru_. Jefsun hadn’t told him how far it would be or how long it would take. She just expected him to follow.

She would speak to him in _gonasleng_  but the few times he responded in it she ignored him. He knew he was bad at Trigedasleng. Octavia was the best and even Lincoln had trouble understanding her sometimes.

As the sun sank a chill seeped through his clothing. He was wearing the same gear, the same boots. One of the grounders had given him a pair of knobby wool socks. He didn’t know what happened to the other pair. Maybe they were burned – they smelt enough.

Bellamy looked to the rolling ground, the leaves turning yellow and red. Sitting on a horse was not easy. If he tried to anticipate how it moved he would suddenly find himself out of sync and landing in the saddle too hard.

“They have a lot to teach you.” Jefsun didn’t look back. She was right in front of him. The rest of the  _kru_ , five in total, trailed behind. “Relax, and sit back. Feel the horse through your knees and calves.”

For a few moments nothing changed. Then there was a heave underneath him. He scrambled for the reigns.

“That was better,” Jefsun didn’t smile, but there was glee in her eyes. “Try again.”

By the time the sun kissed the top of the trees he found a rhythm that was good for him and the horse.

Bellamy tugged his jacket tighter around himself. It didn’t do anything, he wasn’t really that cold, but it made him feel better. One of the grounders came up next to him. She had thick, curly hair that twisted in a braid down her back. Her upper face was unmarked. Her lips were tattooed and there were delicate curls just below her mouth, winding down her neck and chest. She twisted in her saddle with ease and pulled a pile of fur free.

“ _Hir_ ,” and she handed it to him.

Bellamy fumbled with it. The fur was heavy, black-furred. It didn’t smell like Lincoln’s had. He has always assumed that grounders were dirty, sub-human. It was petty, he knew. Reactionary. History wasn’t forgotten on the Ark like is was on the grounded. _Fear is the mind killer_ , he remembered, _fear of others, fear of one’s self_.

“It’s a  _koti_.” She grinned at his confusion. “ _Koti, āe?”_

Bellamy looked at the thing in his arms. It had already began to warm them up. He smiled back, uncertain.

“ _Koti?_ ” He repeated. “ _Okou, sha?”_

She laughed.  _“Āna! Koia nei koti.”_  Her hand moved from the bundle to his jacket. “ _Okou.”_ Then she pointed to the bundle again. “ _Koti_.”

Bellamy nodded. Alright. Two kinds of coats. Or two words for coats. There was no way to tell right now. He carefully pulled it on and buckled it tight. Grounder clothing was sturdier. The fabrics from the Ark were so used that sometimes they tore like paper. Cotton was a luxury afforded for equipment that kept the Ark running. Or the Council.

He adjusted the coat carefully. The chill disappeared in a moment. Bellamy could feel the temperature rising in his chest.

He turned to the woman. “ _Chof_.  _Ai laik Belomi kom Skaikru_.”

“ _E pai ana, Belomi mai i tāepaepatanga o te rangi, ināianei tonu whenua papatipu.”_

Bellamy stared. He knew enough grounder to get by, knew  _hello_  and  _thanks_  and  _you’re welcome_. And he knew that the only word he recognized from that deluge was his own name.

Her smile became cheeky, like she knew a joke Bellamy didn’t and she enjoyed watching him miss the punchline.

Jefsun gestured to the woman sharply. She looked up slightly chastised and traded places with the leader.

“You did well enough,” Jefsun said when her horse was beside him. She must have seen the question in his eyes. “Not all speak the same words, _Belomi kom matawaka Karapukekru_. At Mont Cello,  _Karapuke_ , there is _gonasleng,_   _Trigedasleng,_ and  _roe_  – our language. You’ll learn both. Most don’t speak  _gonasleng_ , as I’m sure you know. But only half speak  _Trigedasleng_. I told you it will be hard. Naime is fair though. More fair than I am.”

She looked east, toward the rising darkness. He followed her gaze. At the edge of the horizon he could see the silver twist of a river. Jefsun breathed out slowly, her breath creating clouds in the air.

“ _I te pueanga o te whenua i te wai, ka hora te mataora ki te ao._ ”

Her gaze was shrewd when she looked back at him. “You will learn that in time. I imagine that you feel sold. That you have been treated unjustly. That may be ture. I don’t know your legend well  _Belomi kom Karapukekru._ I know you have suffered. I know you need to heal. We heal through work and thanksgiving. I think such things could not do you harm.”

She urged her horse forward and rode into the gloom. The host of  _Karapukekru_  followed.


	8. Chapter 8

It was cold here, the world harsher and more barren then he liked. 

He hadn't spoken to anyone in days. He didn't know the language, the customs, fumbled and failed to find common ground. At night he would dig a shallow pit to sleep in. His furs were enough for now. 

Another half moon-turn and he'd be freezing in the cold, hands and feet turning blue. Not yet though. 

In the morning he checked his food. Just enough left for three days. If he pushed he could make five but there might be more of the same - empty thickets and hollow spires. Just a bit further and he could rest for a bit. Once he came to Badaweh's _kru_  there would be fresh food, clean clothes, and place to dream not made of dust and sleeplessness.

Lincoln watched the buildings with a weary eye. He knew better then to venture into the Bay Town. In the harbor was a massive ship, mast like a tree and sails like a bird. The _kru_ here was different than most. They met in a meeting hall once a month to air grievances. They kept gods in a house in the center of the city; Jefersun, Ben Fanlyn, Jon Ad-dam, Hamiltonne. There were thick rivers of black pitch made before the End that curled through the woods. He walked it from dusk until the moon was young.

They were a superstitious lot and he needed to avoid them at all costs. Lexia might believe in blood and Clarke in justice. Lincoln beloved in common sense. His mother's mother had been from north of here, would tell him of the great men who pulled the city from the sea. Legend was that they dressed as tricksters and poured the life-blood of their enemy into the water. Badaweh liked to scare him with the  _lobstabac_ , the fearsome things that still luck under the water, red and cruel with knives for hands and armored bodies. 

"You need to be more observant," she would tell him every night, "As God was with our fathers, so may He be with us."

His mother didn't agree. "Keep Nenimkeeclose," it would be whispered as she bundled him into bed. When he was selected to be a warror she gave him an idol, Ya'kwahewak, carved from black river stone. 

"It will protect you." 

If may have, but her gods abandoned her, so Lincoln walked away from them. He wasn't scared. The  _lobstabacs_ didn't haunt his dreams. What did was the idea the Bellamy was gone, sold to the  _Fèvekru_ or worse the  _Louptribu_ from the lands beyond the Roaring Seneca, worth less than a half-life dog. The Sky People may have thought this was the best solution for them (and it might be) but there no place the other man would fare well. He was too old, too set. You can only beat an old horse so much. At some point nothing can be done to teach it.

It kept him awake some nights. The thought of Bellamy's weakness, his damaged core. If he let his mind wander Lincoln would turn inward. He would fold himself smaller and smaller until the darkness was the tunnel and Bellamy was staring him down as his sanity was broken like a rat's neck. The red haze was easy to sink under. It was like the first freedom after learning to swim, the act of laying back and then letting himself sink under the water, the world blurred and smeared and his lungs were screaming, screaming...

Lincoln awoke with a name on his lips. He wasn't sure who it was - Octavia, his love or Bellamy, his failure.

 His fingers stole into a side pocket. He could feel the smooth planes of Ya'kwahewak under his touch. The stiff-legged bear, the man-eater, the force of nature that howled with the wind and tore up the tress and down the sky. 

"I learnt what I know of Mise Manito from your father," but she never spoke of him beyond that. This was not uncommon, to not know much. It happened with young people during travels or trade. 

All Lincoln knew of half of himself was the words his mother whispered to him late at night. 

He remembered begging when he was younger, "who is he? when can I meet him?", but she never told him. She never told anyone. Years later Lincoln entered  _shawŭnkru_ lands he looked at the old men. One could be his maker, must have been. That night he went to the healer and showed her Ya'kwahewak and begged her for anything. With gnarled hands she touched his face.

"I can tell you he died. That will ease your suffering."

Lincoln did not speak for a while. His thoughts turned like a vulture, a  _gonafluc_ , and they drank weak tea before a low fire.

He looked at the skeleton on the wall. It was the proof of her craft, the carefully spun web of bones. 

If he asked what he wanted to - even if it was unanswered - he would be unsatisfied. So he sat for a while longer, as his tea and temper cooled. He held the calm in his mind like a cup. This peace would be something he yearned for until her met  _her_. He steeled himself and asked.

She looked at him. Her eye were deep in her face, sinking in the folds of time. Despite efforts she was dying. She knew that he knew, so she told him the truth.

He walked out of the  _shawŭnkru_  lands heavier but free. He knew the truth of himself. Almost a month later he walked the worn path to the Place-Where-They-Lay and found his mother's skull. It sat cradled in his lap as he told of where he had been, what he had seen. Then he bent down, carefully, and whispered the truth to her. When he released her Lincoln imaged she laughed with joy, and at him, just a bit. _  
_

Now he was in battle with his mind and his body. He craved violence and red in turn. As the darkness fled his mind he dug his fingers in the earth. He could feel the warmth of it, like he was laying on a massive animal and curled in it's side for protection. 

If Bellamy was discovered to be was weak as Lincoln knew him to be - mind hobbled and body worn - it would not matter how long it took. Lincoln would find him dead. When that will happen he will say the proper words, remove his head and skin it. Then he would carry the skull back to  _Jaharein_ and each night tell it a truth about itself. 

 _You are Belomi kom Skaikru_ , he would say, _you were a gona_.

When he would return to the gate of  _Jaharein_  he would announce the death of  _Belomi kom Skaikru_  then return the skull to Octavia. 

If he found Bellamy's body. 

Above him the stars cast the night into hazy relief.  It took him time to find the  _nomon_ and  _nontu_. He forgot that the further north he traveled, the further south their seats moved. 

He swore to Octavia he would find her brother.

Lincoln did not want him to come to harm, yet... The creature that lived inside Bellamy Blake was not Octavia's brother. He had seen this demon before. It was a wasting sickness. It sapped the hunger and the thrust and the need. It was impossible to compare the man who had vanished to the one he had seen dragged into the cursed _maun._ Offering him death was honorable.Yet Bellamy twisted it into a weakness on Lincoln's part. A failing.

 _"It would help you more than me," he said_ and Lincoln could remember the kick of embarrassment in his chest. The sick swoop when he realized that Bellamy was right. It would help Lincoln, help purge the guilt. He could feel it even now.

It would make life easier if all fallen rulers vanished. Now, though, it was making Lincoln's life hell. If he stared up hard enough he fancied he could anticipate what stars would flicker next. The ground was firm against his back, construed to his shape. He could feel himself drifting off. 

He would find Bellamy tomorrow.

Alive. 


	9. Chapter 9

Octavia had her knees tucked under her chin, her arms hugging her shins. She watched the snow fall. It reminded her of the ash that fell from the pyre.

It was white, floating from the sky and clung to her hair. Clarke had looked stern as they burned Finn and the rest. Bellamy was her shadow. What Octavia knew of history, of love, she learnt from her bother.

His obsession with the Romans wasn't just academic.

He would rage late into the night about democratic systems. Aurora would try and hush him.

"I can't stand this," he would hiss in the dim light. Octavia was sitting on his bed. It doubled as their couch and and the place she napped during the day.

"You can't say these things. They haven't floated anyone for treason in years, but they'll make an exception for you."

"I'm a guard," Bellamy snapped. "I can say whatever the hell I want."

"You're a cadet. In the belly of the beast. If you say whatever you want..."

The implication hit him like a blow. She remember how Bellamy staggered to the side then left the room. That must have been why he yelled so much when they first landed. He never had the room to express his anger. But that had been sucked from him when Clarke left.

It had been weeks now. Word had come from the north that Lincoln was on his way back, empty handed.

She didn't like the new grounders. They spoke English poorly and kept to themselves. When she tired Trigedasleng only Thya would answer.

Sometimes she would seek Octavia out, would ask about the names of things like spoon or baby. It was awkward when she asked Abby about... bleeding.

Octavia hadn't thought about the implants in years. No one did. That was for medical to worry about.

Monty walked up and stood between her and the camp, blocking her view.

"There's been a meeting called. Seven P.M. don't be late."

When she arrived she saw all the women had met in the mess. There were no men. That made her uneasy - Monty had been supportive the last few days, checking out maps for possible _kru_ nearby. Bellamy would try and stay close. once Lincoln was back they would search in earnest. He would know what to do.

The women chatted as the room filled. Octavia entered at an awkward moment - she wasn't by anyone she recognized. At the front Abby mounted a chair so she could see clear across the room.

"Thank you for coming." The chatter died down slightly.

Octavia could see Thya slinking along the far wall. She quickly found a seat and settled in.

"I know that basic sciences covers human anatomy, but I think its been a while for some of you." There were scattered laughs though the room. "I know we all have implants, and you check regularly for signs of wear or movement. or periodically." She smiled, but her eyes were terrified. "It has come to my attention that due to the environment we currently live in, that there has been some rejections and... material breakdown at a higher rate than anticipated. Attempts of reinsertion have not been successful. As of right now, there are only twelve unused implants in the med bay. Because the damage cause by rejection has been severe, the Council has decided that the implants should be removed as soon as possible."

The woman next to Octavia grabbed her hand. Monroe, sitting only feet away, looked sick. A trio of young women were whispering to each other. One looked like she could have been crying. The rest of the room was dead quiet.

"We're going to start in forty five minutes. I'd like everyone under the age of nineteen to come to the med bay then. We'll do the thirty to twenty group tomorrow morning and fifty to forty tomorrow afternoon. After dinner will be everyone over the age of fifty. Now," Abby held up her hands. "I know you have a lot of questions. Before we get there, I'd like to invite our friend Thya to the front."

When Thya stood Octavia could see the ease in which she moved clashed with the coiled embarrassment on her face.

"Most of you, if you have not had children, have never experienced a period. If you gave birth there was a one month wait between removal and conception. Some, myself included, had one. Some have not. It's perfectly natural and nothing to be afraid of. Due to the lack of resources, Thya will tell us how her _kru_ deals with this."

Abby carefully stepped off the chair. The only sound Octavia could hear was the high breaths in the room. Thya had trouble finding her balance, but no one laughed.

"Hello." There was no response. The woman finally let go of Octavia's hand. "You will not bleed often. You will not bleed when you are with child or when you feed it." Thya shrugged. She reached into a pocket and pulled out a pouch. "If you do bleed, take this," a pinch of cotton "and wrap it around a reed. Then you insert it in yourself. It is no different then you _im-plant._ If you do not want to do this, tie cloth to a inner belt. Bleeding is not difficult. It is life. We bleed for death and we bleed for life. You are the life of you people. Men, they come and go, but women are the  _kru_. Your name comes from your mother, your  _kru_ comes from your mother, your strength, your blood- it is her strength and her blood. Do not be scared. Do not be weak. Women always see more blood than men." She nodded again, signalling she was finished. Someone's chair squeaked loudly as they shifted.  There were a few nervous giggles from the back. 

Abby stepped forward. "Thank you, for that. Any questions?"

One of the girls, one of the whisperers, raised her hand. She was the only one.

"Yes?" Abby seemed pleased by the lack of uproar.

"How do we... not have babies?"

Thya laughed. "You can drink a tea." She offered.

"Is that effective?" Abby looked interested. Medicine was going to run out or expire within the next year and a half, Octavia guessed. Abby probability wanted to know everything she could before that happened. 

"For some." Thya brushed her hands on the front of her pants then hopped off the chair. She nodded to Abby. As she left the room there was nothing but the clap of her footsteps. The doors shut silently. 

"Thank you for your understanding." Abby looked at her watch. "You half less than a half-hour wait. If you have any questions you can come talk to me or one of the nurses."

Octavia followed the stream of women outdoors. There were two of the guard stationed by the door. She didn't notice them on the way in.

Outside most of the women didn't wander far. Some older ones looked excited. Carte blanc babies. No need to worry about hiding your shame under your floor. And people wanted more children; it was the promise of a future. The younger women looked scared, confused. Octavia saw some quizzing the known mothers. She wouldn't want to have a kid. No way.

Monty hustled a few of the  forty four, and some girls Octavia didn't recognize, over. They were all shivering in the chill. Hopefully Lincoln would be back soon. 

"When are we leaving?" One of the girls asked.

"I'm sorry?" Octavia looked at the girl in confusion. "Who's leaving?"

"We are." Monroe insisted. "I've already talked to the guys. We're getting out of here."

Octavia looked around the group. "Who's in charge? Where are you going to go?"

" _You_? No,  _us_. We need to get out of here. Now." Monroe was vibrating. 

"I'm not leaving." Octavia backed away. "I can't leave. Bellamy's still -"

Monroe grabbed her shoulders. "Bellamy is gone. Don't be stupid. I'm not going to be some kind of baby-factory..."

Octavia shoved her. Monroe landed hard. When Monroe fell her shout brought over some older women. 

"What's going on?" One asked.

"Nothing. Nothing," Octavia said. "We're just a little nervous."

She patted Octavia's arm. "It'll be fine. I had mine removed a few weeks ago. It's not even painful." There was yelling and she looked over to the Ark. "I think they're calling you now, dears. Come on."

Octavia followed her. Monroe fell in next to her. "I'm not letting you go alone." Was all she said. 

Behind her she could hear the rest of the girls following. 

Abby was standing outside the medical bay. If she was shocked to see Octavia, front an center, she hid it well. She looked over the assembled girls. "Thank you all of coming." 

Then she reached out and touched Octavia's arm. "It's time."

Octavia nodded. As long as Bellamy was missing, as long as Clarke was gone, she had to stay and hold their group together. She may not be a leader, but she would look out for her  _kru_ , Council be dammed.

The door shut behind her with a whisper. 


	10. Chapter 10

The pain was curling up and inward, turning his insides to water. He could feel tears tracing down his face. Above him the chanting rose and fell. His head rang with the noise.

 

For the first time in ages he felt truly helpless. The world had fallen away and he was elsewhere. There was nothing around him but grey emptiness. Octavia was here, somewhere. He just had to call out-

 

Hands held him down as he jerked. Something was being rubbed into the tops of his legs. It burned. Pain raced up his nerves, set his brain on fire.

 

"Hold him! Hold him!" 

 

The sounds weren't gonasleng. He lost those with his mind. It had been cracked open and spread over the floor, an ever widening pool of words and thought.

 

A voice rose of the rest. If was firm, calm. Jami, it had to be. Bellamy focused on the story. He kept  looseing track as his skin was peeled and rubbed. At one point he knew he lost time. There was no change to the darkness be saw. He didn't know if his eyes were open. There was no way to keep time here but he felt the disorientation all the same.

 

He woke the final time with Jami on his left and Reut on his right, hanging between. He was upright. They were awkwardly leading him to a post. They tied his arms around it, chest to the pole and head leaning on the smooth wood.

 

"You did good." Reut ran a comforting hand through his hair.

 

Her hands were firm and unyeilding. Jami watched but said nothing. They left him there. Bellamy pressed closer to the only thing keeping him standing. His legs shook. He could feel blood running down one calf, pooling sticky around his foot.The memory of Octavia's face kept slipping away the more he tried to focus. Sleep was more elusive. He was too tired to sleep.

 

 

Bellamy watched the sun crest the far edge of the clearing. The camp was another day's ride north. They had been attacked by a poorly armed group much further south. In the middle of everything Bellamy was dragged from his horse. The sword vanshed between the ribs of a twitching form. While crawling on the ground someone tired to drag him. Bellamy snagged a rock and beat the man's skull in. The first hit made Bellamy's arm numb. The second caused his head to give with the sucking crack of an egg. They won handedly. They were better trained, better fed, better at killing. These low men lived on the refuse of the woods. No better than the corpses they scavenged.

 

When they regrouped Naime had to peel his fingers from the stone. At one point it had cracked. As Bellamy let go it shattered into fragments. All that was left was the blood on his hands. She tried to help him clean up.  Water was ineffective. It just made the runoff a soft pink.

 

She, Jami, and Reut held a whispered conference. Bellamy started to follow the loose horse, but it returned before he got far. He followed it back to the ambush in a daze. When he returned Reut told him the plans had changed and they rode off the paths and into the woods.

 

Branches clawed his face was they moved. He didn't know what Naime was following but she never paused or looked to the side. Her goal was onward, so onward they would go.

 

After a while they stopped to let the horses breathe. No one spoke. They resumed riding. Bellamy's seat had gotten better but nothing mattered to him. His mind was trapped again. The noise of the rock breaking bone reminded him of the seals opening in the mountain. A seal being breached. They let the horses walk. Time was nothing now. They would get where they needed to be.

 

The clearing was filled with a low, dark grass. Frost melted on the tips and they sagged under the weight. On the east side was a three sided hut fronted by a fire pit. Jami set it roaring. Naime helped Bellamy off his horse and stripped him bare. His hands were still tacky with blood.

 

"I need you to focus," her hands washed as she spoke, manipulating his body. "I need you the breathe."

 

He tried to focus but his eyes, his mind, kept moving away to stare at nothing. Naime's words sought to brought him back. Bellamy listened to what would happen. He had seen the proof of it - on her and others. He had never consider getting this involved. He had tried to keep the parts of himself separate - the Ark from the Ground from the Grounders. When the morning would break he would be closer to osmosis then ever before.

 

With a few words he let the process begin. Naime released him to Jami's care nude and clean.

 

Now the sun wasn't high enough to cause discomfort. Shadows lay long across the dark grass. From where he stood Bellamy watched frost slowly glisten. It crunched underfoot as Naime approached.

 

"What hurts?"

 

He tried to catagorise, compartmentalise. "Everything," he settled on.

 

"Hm." She was holding a rag he reconised. It had been used to clean him only the day before. It felt like more than a night had past. "I need to check your  _tā moko_."

 

Bellamy tried not to shiver as she touched just under his knees. Her finger rested on the first cut. She looked thoughtful as she examined his legs, the sheen of sweat on his face.

 

"Usually your family would be here." Her voice was distant as she talked. "They would sing to you comfort and memory. But you will be the first to carry the things that happened to you. To your people." Her fingers tested and probed as she talked.

 

Bellamy shook. His legs still hurt, but the pain dulled, separated. It stopped five inches above his knees. He had seen Jami's, seen the way it curled to the small of his back. It would take days to finish. Naime used the rag to blot away blood.

 

"I didn't expect much from you, Bellmay. It is easy to live in war or peace. It is hard to move between the two. When Jefsun brought you I thought there must have been a mistake, or you must have been a coward."

Bellamy let the words wash over him. As Naime spoke her nose moved, sending her markings twisting. They were delicate, on her nose and chin and hands. Her lips were as dark as her hair. 

 

On the fifth day Bellamy could walk with some effort. Squatting was out for a while. He slept on his stomach like a child, feet raised to keep his hips off the ground. The better he get the more conscious he was of his nakedness. Clothes were out of the question - they would rub the open wounds. Then night Naime helped him into loose pants. He tried not to look at the tā moko. It unnerved him. They seemed to move on their own. They looked more alien than anything he had seen in Tondc. 

 

He could feel the part him that was the Ark slip away. Despite the lack of mirrors he knew he looked like a Grounder. It was more than how one dressed. It was how one lived, and Bellamy was still unsure.

 

He remebered the panic twisting under the pain, the desprate need to go home. Would be ever see his sister again?

 

Naime let him take point out of the clearing despite his lurching gait. After a few hours of walking, she checked the tā moko, wiped away the blood. Bellamy looked at a tree. He could almost feel the tā moko twisting over his skin, from his knees to  the bottom of his waist, flickering as he moved.

 

"It is healing nicely." 

 

Jami had wandered over to admire his work. Bellamy tried to tap down on the feelings bubbling up. Pain. Anger. Shame. Embarrassment. Fear.

 

"Hey," Reut clapped him on the back. "When you're face is done you can go back home. At than rate it'll take you no time at all." She took over the lead, grinning.

 

Naime nodded. "I think that would be the best measure. All men have tā moko. If you learn what you have come here to, then you will go home with it finished."

 

The hiking took longer but riding was not an option. Bellamy knew he lost weight but he slowly regained muscle the Arkers had always been missing. Living in low gravity didn't lend itself to muscle development. Abby had already suggested that the young adults would become measurably stronger than the older members, outstrip they in speed and strength.

 

Bellamy watched Jami clamber past, his face tā moko clearly unfinished. A horrible thought crossed his mind - what if his tā moko was undone? Could be not go home?

 

Naime urged him on. "Almost back. I think they have eggs. I'll let you have mine."

 

Bellamy grinned and ignored the sting in his legs. Almost home. The thought did not cheer him.


	11. Chapter 11

He stumbled upon her in the unseasonably warm mid-morning. Her hair was greasy, beginning to twist in dirty ropes. 

When he first saw her he thought she was a demon. She looked dead. Her face was pale and eyes clouded. She stood out starkly on the early snow. It was cold in the low montanans and he wondered how she survived like this. 

Unlike the _Skayon_  Lincoln's _kru_  had never seen nakedness as a point of shame. He was grateful for that now. 

She stood still. Her body was too thin. He could see the cut of her rubs, the knobs of her hips and shoulders. Her gums bleed. He could almost see the  _trilipawamplei_ move around her on delicate hooves. There was still time. They would not take her yet. The snow was soft as he walked through it. His feet sank deeply with every step.

He called out to her, like a _yongon_. "Clarke."

She did not move. Lincoln crept closer. "Clarke."

As he approached he could smell something rotten. It was coming from her. Lincoln was reminded of blood poisoning, the black vines that would twist out of a battle wound and draw life back into the ground. He might be too late after all. He reached out a hand. Clarke shuddered as a thin breeze moved the trees, sent warmed snow sliding off the branches. She did not react when he took her wrist. He could feel every bone, the too fast beat of her heart. There was a balance here - the speed needed to get her to  _Jaharein_ versus the time she needed to gain strength. There would be a race, and he had to choose the course. 

With soft hands and quiet words he guided her to the path. They moved along it slowly. Her skin was so cold his fingers stuck to it sometimes. Her fingers and toes had gone grey. _Az led op_ was dangerous. If she had it he might have to cut them off. Better to have poor balance than death. When he found an appropriate spot he helped her stand on a flat, clean stone. She barely blinked. There was no response to his questions, nothing asked of him. 

He stood in the snow with the shell of a  _heda_ and used it to scrub her clean. While he cleaned her thighs the smell became worse, and he knew where it stemmed from. He gently probed her abdomen, felt the unusual warmth and give. He watched in mute fear as a thin brown fluid leaked down her leg. Octavia had told him of the contraceptives of her people. She had insisted there was no danger. Lincoln was always suspicious of things that made life too easy; implants, guns, the red. The gods would not have to protect the people if life was easy. He pressed harder. The smells reminded him of the tunnels, the sickly meat, the stink of piss and fear. He blinked hard, fighting the darkness back. Above him he heard Clarke suck in a breath. When he looked up her eyes had focused.

"Hi," he said. Her eyes widened as she took in the fluid, the smell, the snow gently falling from the grey sky. 

Her throat clicked as she swallowed. It took her a few attempts to get a noise out. 

"Hi, Lincoln."

He slowly reached down and handed her a water skin. She drank it slowly. He could hear the water slosh in her stomach. She had been empty for days.

"What's..." she clenched her fists. "What's wrong with me?"

Lincoln took a step back and purposefully looked away. If being naked gave her same he wouldn't add to it. "I think your implant had soured. I've seen the same... the discharge appears when the body tries to expel something. Dead bone. An arrowhead." A few birds hopped among the trees, calling, calling. 

"It smells bad." Was all she said.

"It's gone bad," he met her eyes. "Inside of you."

"I know what toxic shock is." She shook harder, now fully aware of the cold. "I know it has to come out."

Lincoln glanced at his bag. He had only the most basic tools. A _swimaswis_ , a bedroll, rations. His weapons. "Can you take it out?" It was an almost desperate ask on his end. He had mourned her and bathed her, but he didn't want to touch her.

Clarke grimaced. "I know where it is, and I know  _how_ its supposed to come out." Her hands trembled but he fingers did not move. it was too soon to tell if the _az led op_ had set. She looked up. Flakes dusted her lashes. In that moment Lincoln was reminded of Kako-u'hthé, the Cyclone Woman, the spirit of the winds. Clarke was so pale she seemed part of the ground, her eyes as washed as the sky. Like a tic, a meditation, Lincoln covertly touched Ya'kwahewak. The smooth edges of the carving cooled his fear.

"Will you do it?" 

Her eyes blazed her face. "Turn around."

He collected his things from the side of the rock and did as he was told.

The noise was awful. Clarke made soft noises as she worked, the smallest hints of fear and pain. Lincoln did not react. He counted in his head. The numbers rose higher and higher. Three hundred. Five hundred. After a time Clarke spoke.

"I have it."

When Lincloln turned back Clarke was shuddering. Between her fingers was a small piece of white plastic. It was no bigger than a needle. The fluid was petered off, dripping loudly onto the rock. Clarke stubbornly pressed on her stomach. 

"There's more..." she grunted as she dug her hand in. "If I don't drain all of it none of this matters." She looked around wildly. "Is anyone else here?"

Lincoln shook his head. "No."

Clarke moved as if to run a hand across her face, then caught herself. "Ugh. God." She moved her fingers irritably. "Fine."

She crouched suddenly and clenched her face. Lincoln stumbled back. It was disgusting. He gagged slightly and turned away.

Clarke staggered off the rock. "I think... I'm done." She licked her teeth. Lincoln could see how loose they were. He offered her another dink of water as she cleaned herself.

He fashioned some furs into a poor wrap and stripped birch back for shoes. Clarke got dressed without comment. She had washed the implant and held it tight.

They built a fire in silence. 

Finally, slowly chewing with a tender mouth, she asked. "How long has it been?"

"Since you left?" 

She nodded.

"Almost four months." Clarke made a shocked sound. When he thought on it, he almost couldn't believe it himself. "Have you been here the whole time?"

"In the woods? Yes." In a fit of moodiness Clarke threw the implant into the flames. It melted slowly, cured and turned black. "I've been alone most of the time. I saw some people a while back, but..." She shook her head.

"Were they Reapers?" Lincoln didn't expect them this far north. They were created by the Mountian and didn't stray far from the nest.

"No. They didn't even speak. They were hunched, sort of," her mouth twisted in distaste. "I don't know. I knew it wasn't a mutation. I know what those look like."

Lincoln chewed, thinking. "They might have been low men."

"Low men?" Clarke repeated. 

"They're mad, in a way. They get too close to the gods, some would say."

"What do you mean?" 

"The name is because they are not men - not anymore. They are here." Lincoln drew a line in the white powder with a stick. Birch was supposed to be holy. It was both white and black, the night and the day of winter in a living thing. It held the cold it itself as the seasons changed. "Men are here," a line above, "and animals here." A line below.

"And where are the gods?" Clarke had a humor in her face that was new. Lincoln tried not to feel bitter.

"There are no gods." He threw the stick on the fire. It burned like all the rest.

"How far are we from camp?" It was not an innocent question. Clarke wanted to know how far they were from her home. If he told her it was close, would she run again? If he lied and said it was far so he could lead her to it in poor faith, would she slip into the woods again? Eight days. It was the truth, and not too close or too far. Now that her sickness had been purged, for the most part, they could travel at speed.

"Close enough." He settled on. "You'll get proper treatment there." Lincoln looked around the woods. The trees were needle ones here, thick and imposing. The snow would muffle anyone coming, but it would also hide them well. "To you remember how you got here?

She shook her head. Instead of responding she took another swing of water. He didn't press. She never asked why he had come so far north in the first place. They would bare the truth in time.

They curled together like dogs to keep warm in the snow. Lincoln watched her stare at the sky until he fell asleep. 


	12. Chapter 12

"You should drink hot water."  
Octavia groaned and waved Shi'ea away. The grounder held her hair back as she dry heaved, persuading voice growing louder.  
"Or head to the steam hut. This isn't going to get better on its own."  
Octavia gagged. A glob of phlem fell out of her mouth.  
"No." Her voice cracked. She was sick and tired of being sick and tired. Her nose had been clogged for days. Now she could finally breathe.  
Shi'ea fingercombed her hair, twisting and braiding as she went.  
Bellamy was still gone. The knowledge, the reminder of his absence pulsed in the back of her mind. Lincoln was still gone too. Maybe he was hurt. Maybe they both were, her brother and her...  
The coughs wracked her body. She could feel Shi'ea urging her foward. A hiss of compressed air let the doors slide open.  
It was slightly warmer inside.  
The sounds the ill echoed off the walls. Octavia was, objectively, miserable.  
It seemed like everyone has gotten sick at once. Abby was quick to assure the masses it was the common cold. No one had died yet, but the new rotation of grounders was much smaller. Just one.  
Shi'ea insisted she would stay the whole season. The others left after a month. Thya and the tattooed grounders vanshed before the first hint of frost. At least they left a message with Esther, a freshfaced guard with a habit of chewing her braid.

"They said that one son, no matter how prized, isn't equal to four warrors." Esther blanched at Abby's expression.  
Kane just looked thoughtful. The rest of the council was disturbingly quiet. Octavia and Monty were selected to represent the interests of the hundred, but had no real power. So they say and waited.  
Kane spread his hands on the table.  
"Can we get Bellamy back?"  
The question was met with silence. Abby made a gesture. A guard ushered Octavia and Monty outside.  
"Briggs will give you an update," he hissed as he hurried them away from the meeting. She knew of him. Willis, one of the old guard, the last ones trained in the Ark.  
Octavia twisted away from his grip. "Why didn't they say 'yes'?"  
Monty tried to pacify her. "They might."  
The guard was looking around and snapped, "Keep your voices down. Briggs is still in there. He'll tell you. Later."

She lay on her back. The smoothness of the wall was disturbing. It reminded her of hatches to small holds and a groaning dropship. She was lothe to abandon the tent Bellmay slept in, but it had collapsed under the weight of a sudden snowfall. The council decided that Bellamy wasn't worth getting back. It was just as well. Two weeks after, Briggs' friend Siggy rode to the gate with Shi'ea and a message from Bellamy's _heda_.  
This meeting only held Abby, Kane, Octavia, Briggs, and Siggy.

"You've declared peace-time." Siggy was enjoying the soy ration, carefully dividing each cube into smaller and smaller pieces. "Trading in children is more accepted, but the offer of Bellamy was a strong one. It made a statement. What gave you the idea?"  
Abby swallowed. "I talked to a number of _krus_ in Tondc. I thought it would be a good idea to strengthen our relationship with Lexia's Twelve Nation."  
Siggy sighed. "The Nation isn't Lexia's more than its mine or any other _heda's_. And the _kru_ Bellamy went with isn't part of the accord."  
That grabbed Kane's attention. "What do you mean?"  
"The _kru_ he's with is not part of the Nation. They rarely trade to the north."  
Abby made a bitter expression. "We... There was some concerns about his treatment."  
Siggy shot Briggs a look. "Briggsa said that the _kru_ your man went to was to be treated as they saw it. Did him no good to be brought in chains."  
Octavia chocked on her fury. Siggy smiled at her.  
"Are you the sister?"  
Octavia nodded.  
"Briggsa told me a lot about you."  
"Briggs has a big mouth." Kane growled. Siggy simply tilted her head.  
"I can assure you the _kru_ is know for their skills. He will be trained will and returned stronger than he left. He will be a man in their eyes and those of other _kru_. His _heda_ is pleased with his progress. Is this not what you desired?"  
Abby looked pale under the artificial lights. Her hands seemed brittle. Octavia wanted to break them. They didn't know about Lincoln. But he had gone the wrong way, wasted weeks searching the wrong places.  
"Would it be possible to bring him back?"  
Siggy laughed in her face. Even Octavia flinched at the sound.  
"You have surrendered him to another _kru_. If you attempt to force his return there will be war. Your _gona_ surrendered your man in good faith." Siggy shrugged. "But it's your choice."  
Abby's hands twisted. They threw contoured shadows on the walls. "When will he be returned?"  
Siggy went back to dissecting her food. Briggs moved uncomfortably in his seat. Kane watched him with narrowed eyes.  
"Speak." The order held the hint of violence owed.  
Briggs shifted, then spoke. "I was given little instruction about the exchange. There was no briefing about the technicalities before we left." The look he leveled at Kane was accusing. "The deal... It was agreed that he would be returned when ready."  
Abby strugged to maintain her composure. Octavia had no restraints.  
"When?" Her hands clenched the edge of the table. "When?"  
Briggs didn't look at her. His eyes fixed on a spot just past Abby's shoulder. "There was no set date. It was implied to take a period of months. The terms were agreed upon by Bellamy, and no one else."  
"That's shit." Octavia almost stood. Her vision narrowed, the sounds muffled in her rage. "You wanted to get rid of him! You sold him off so you could have easy control of this damn ship."  
Siggy watched with poorly veiled interest. Abby bowed her head. Kane just shook his slowly.  
"That's not what happened. Bellamy was unwell - he needed time away. He needs time to heal."  
Octavia was surprised when a hand covered her own. It was Siggy. She squeezed Octavia's fingers gently.  
"I can promise he will get that. The _kru_ he is with is one of the best I know. I would trust them with my own son."

The ceiling of the ship felt too close. If she stared at it she swore it moved. On the other side of the room Shi'ea carefully copied out the alphabet. Three months would give her plenty of time to pick up new skills. Octavia knew that the _Skaikru_ had little in the way of trade.  
Almost everything they ate came from rations. It was disheartening to sit in cramped quarters and eat space food with the real world just inches away. But they couldn't depend on the kindness of the other clans for long. Either they asserted themselves or they would have to assimilate with a new culture.  
Monroe had argued the idea a few nights after the implants had been removed. There was no engery behind the plan, and it was early abandoned.  
There would be no running off to rescue Bellmay, no setting off to found a new culture, no great plan of manifest destiny.

Octavia stated at the grey metal and asked Shi'ea, "Is there any honor in staying?"  
Shi'ea walked over. She perched on the edge of Octavia's cot. Her scars shadowed her eyes and made her face seem damaged and shattered.  
"There is no shame in surviving where you are. There is hope in that. Honor too." She fiddled with a loose string. "I think, sometimes, that there needs to be more to life than honor."  
Octavia sat up. "What is more important?" Honor defined your actions, guided your hands. It was only poor if you had the wrong concept of if - like Bellamy and Lincoln did.  
Shi'ea rubbed her eyes. "Love? Trust? I don't know, O. There's more to life than surviving too."  
"Isn't that all you do?"  
Shi'ea laughed. "No, I live on the ground. I don't survive here. And you will too. And so will your people. We built the steam hut, the trails are marked, there is food until the thaws. There will be more there than you can dream of. I promise."  
Octavia turned until she faced the wall. There was just light enough to see her reflection on the dull metal. The distortion make her face appear screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am looking for a editor. Please let me know if you are interested.


	13. Chapter 13

Bellamy was surprised he knew where Mont Cello, Karapuke, was. Knew what it was even. When they first rode up the winding path to the camp he felt giddy.

There, in a wide clearing, hundreds of years old, was Monticello. The home of Thomas Jefferson.  
It was unbelievable. The house was massive but in good repair. People wandered around the lawn in front. He knew there were fields somewhere - miles of fruit and vegetables.  
The nameless girl had laughed at his expression. Jefson didn't smile, but she appeared pleased.  
For the first month he was rotated through the gardens, learning about the differences in apples, peaches, figs; all sweet and bursting with flavour. There was more variety they he had ever imagined on the Ark. He learnt how to pick and dry, the importance of saving every seed and cutting for spring.  
There were animals too. Turkeys and quail wandered in fields with clipped wings. The horses were stables at night, but during the day lazed in paddocks. It was almost enjoyable, to wander behind Naime and see the life the Karapukekru wrestled from the ground.  
Now he followed Naime closely. Their cabin was by the vinyards with the other gona in-training. She sent Jami and Reut ahead. They took the horses with them. The walk added time but it let Bellamy heal. Let him think. In the woods he would watch the stars and try and image what Octavia was doing. Was she hunting? Building a life without him? The wounds stung as he walked. Jami had cautioned him. It would take a month for the tā moko to heal fully.  
It stopped bleeding. Now it just itched. Naime watched him with knowing eyes.  
When they arrived at the cabin the nameless girl was waiting. The one who tried to tech him the many words for coat. Her markings crinkled on her chin as she smiled. The darkness of her lips make her teeth gleam.  
"You've been gone a long time!" She seemed pleased they were back. "Jefson wants a word with you, Naime."  
Naime nodded and clasped Bellamy's shoulder. "Get some rest."  
She walked up the row of cabins, past the packed earth of the training pitch, and disappeared among the green.  
The girl approached. She was almost his age, he guessed. He hadn't seen her since the first ride south.  
She stepped close and pressed her nose and forehead to his. He knew the hongi well now. It had unnerved him the first time he had seen it. It looked too intimate, too private.  
Now it felt no different than a handshake. The girl stepped back. "I've kept the wharepuni clean while you were gone."  
"Thanks." He had gotten better at Trigedasleng but roe still alluded him. "It was..."  
He trailed off.  
"I heard you have begun moko."  
Bellamy nodded. The was a cool breeze that made the leaves on the vines ripple. It sounded like water, the roll of the surf.  
"I'm Bellamy."  
She laughed again. "I know who you are. I'm Enutanga. My papakāinga is Kai-waha-onepū."  
She followed in as he ducked inside. It was dim and cool. He could still hear the wind rush through the leaves outside.  
"Is that far from here?"  
"Only a half turn by horse." She sat on the ground. The cabin was clean, all the dishes stacked on the table. It was weird to eat outside, but no food was allowed to be eaten where people slept. It was sacrilege. The beds had been stripped. He sat on one. He hand to keep fisting his hands so he wouldn't rubs his thighs.  
"It looks great in here."  
Enutanga sighed and lay flat on the ground. "I remember when I go my pakituri. It iched so much I cried. My whaea kēkē rubbed paste on my legs and said 'This is no way for a taitamāhinetanga to act! Are you not a tohunga matakite?' I think she was so stern because she thought she had a reputation to uphold."  
Bellamy closed his eyes. "Did you have to kill someone too?" The words tasted bitter.  
He heard her move. He was surprised when there was a strong grip on his left knee. The shock of the touch froze his attention. He looked down. She was up on her knees, her eyes hard.  
"You do not get moko for death, not the pakituri. It is the song of your people. Look."  
She used his knees as leverage. When she was standing she pulled down her skirt. Her legs were marked with small lines, thin and patterned like embroidery. She gestured at them.  
"This is the story of Kai-waha-onepū, of the tohunga matakite, of my family. It has nothing to do with what you have done - not yet. You may be a man, Bellamy, but your works are that of a man. When your tā moko is finished they will go back and complete your pakituri. But not before."  
She pulled up her skirt and tied it. "Life is not as complex as you try make it."  
Bellamy leaned back his head hit the wall. He could see the thrashing above, carefully woven.  
"Naime said that when my tā moko was complete I could go home."  
"It is a high honor. And a sign of ability - you must be well-spoken, skilled in hunting and farming, take part in tangihanga. That is where Jami failed," she informed him. "He was not able to complete tangi as expected."  
"Tangi?" He was too wound to worry if he came across as simple. At least he wasn't using gonasleng.  
"The ritual of the dead. What do your people do?"  
"Space them." He said. He didn't want to explain the waiting, the withdrawal period before necks were broken and bodies folded into boxes to decompose for Argo. It was ridiculous to think the Council would waste power and air to space every dead body. Nicer, cleaner, to think that their dead floated among the stars.  
"Hm." She didn't ask for clarification. Instead she gathered some bowls and walked to the door.  
"Come on. Dinner will be ready soon."  
He followed her out.


	14. Chapter 14

They hesitated at the crest of the hill. It was a mutual pause, a reflection on their last few days.

Clarke watched the hazy tendrils of smoke rise from scattered huts. The view was blanketed in white. It blurred the edges of the buildings, the Ark, the movement of people through the drifts.

"Your mom's going to be thrilled to see you," this was said with confidence.

"What about your mom?" He just looked away. The words settled like a shadow. "I'm sorry." She shook her head. 

Without replying Lincoln began to descend. As he moved the snow shifted below and around. A sheet broke off and rushed downward. The noise caused some people by the fence to look up. One called to the others then sprinted to the ship. When the doors opened they became swallowed in the light.

Clarke struggled after him. Fur wrapped around her feet kept them warm but it was harder to navigate. She couldn't feel the change in texture, if the ground was firm or soft. By the time they staggered to the bottom there was a small crowd gathered by the gate. Above the chatter she could hear Octavia. Her words were muffled by distance.

Even though she wanted to run Clarke could only shuffle foward, head down. The gate was opened in moments. She was wrapped in hugs. Someone slapped her hard on the back. Then she was in front of Octavia. The girl's face was covered in tears. When she saw Clarke's face she staggered back.

"No. No, that's no..." Octavia rounded on Lincoln. "That's not Bellamy!" The words sounded torn from her throat.

Someone pulled Clarke's hood back. The pull jerked the collar to her neck and she gasped for air. Lincoln gently pushed the person away. There was too much going on. They were all dress in layers. They all looked the same; a pusling, shouting mass of angry humanity. Claire started to back away but a hand grabbed her arm. It was Raven, eyes glittering in the cold.

"You need to get in. Warm yourself up. We have food." The words faded to a dull roar.

She was bundled inside. The light blinded her, had her eyes watering and pain shooting through her head. It made everything stark. Shadows seemed small and weak, everything exposed. Clarke felt trapped. She struggled against Raven's hold, but Wick was there and them Harper, who pulled her hood back up. It blocked the worst of the light and clamour. 

When Clarke was released she stood in the mech room. The white noise was soothing. Here the lights were dimmed, signal bulbs twinkling like stars. Raven piled food on a plate; dried meat and soy cubes, a quarter of banana, a smear of peanut butter. 

"Eat."

It seemed like a good idea. Clarke saw Octavia and Lincoln whispering. He shook his head. Her face twisted. Instead of running she clung to him. 

Clarke swallowed thickly around the peanut butter. It stuck to the top of her mouth, welded her teeth together. The meat was almost too tough to chew.

"Where's Bellamy?" Her voice was still soft from disuse. Lincoln didn't talk much when he walked.

Raven looked at her with a pained expression. Harper nervously perched on the counter and fiddled with a loose wire. Wick made a harsh noise.

"They spaced him."

"What? Hush." Raven crowded in on him, took a grip on his forearms.

"Spaced him?" Clarke repeated. 

Octavia sniffled loudly. "They sent him to another _kru._ No one knows when he's coming back."

Clarke dropped her plate. The food slapped on the floor. "Who." She didn't have any words.

Lincoln looked at the floor. Octavia finally spoke. "The Council. Kane. Your mother."

Beyond the room ceased to exist. Clarke could only stare at the people with her. She could feel spreading wetness between her thighs. The implant had done a number on her. With the feeling rose the smell. She could feel the hear,of shame, the sick swoop of it when Raven looed from her feet to her eyes.

"Clarke," she began.

Lincoln swore. "We need to get her to medical." 

Octavia helped her stand. The was another piping feeling. The liquid rushed out. Wick covered his nose.

"Jesus."

Harpre hiccuped. Raven looked ill but stepped out into the hall. "Its clear."

They followed her, Clarke weakly moving, supported by Octavia and Lincoln. The further they went the longer the hallway seemed.

"You can't pass out," Octavia urged. "You need to keep moving.

One of Clark's shoes felt sodden. It got so hard to walk Lincoln picked her up. Octavia cliches her hand, whispered in her ear as they moved. Clarke could hear doors open and close, the brush of air. A final round and they were at the bay.

A young man was on duty. When he saw Clarke he went pale and grabbed the radio at his waist.

Lincoln shook his head. "No time. Her implant went back."

The man straightened. He gestured to a free medbed as he spoke. "I'm Dr. Chung, and I'm on rotation tonight. I'll need to get a look at you and see what we're dealing with." 

It took all of them to get Clakre on a bed. The position was jarring. The pain became sharp and she rolled into her side.

"We need her back over," someone called. Hands, too hot, burning, pulled her flat. Fingers proper her fetter, her knees, higher...

Something twisted and Chung pulled something out. It was long and thin. "We need to flush this and get an IV in."

"I can do the IV." Octavia was pulling the saline bag as Raven inserted the needle jus above the inside of Clarke's elbow.She could feel the cool lquid enter her vein. Her chest hurt, her heart felt like it was beating too hard. She felt it miss a beat. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. The world was trying black at the edges. There was a sudden pain in her chest, like someone was trying to tear her heart out. Clarke struggled for air. With no warning the light vanished.

Then so did she.


	15. Chapter 15

Enutanga watched him through the high afternoon light. He had spent the morning drilling with Naime. Bellamy shifted under her watchful eyes. His back and legs ached.

She ate the fish with delicate movements. As she ate she set the bones aside. When she first told him to eat the skin he was surprised and a bit disgusted. It hadn't tasted like much. 

Now it was as common as the morning runs. They, he and Naime and ten others, would got the the river and back. Then they would swim in it. It was always too cold. The markings on his legs itched and peeled. Bellamy wore long pants and avoided looking at them. He was glad there were only small mirrors. He heard laughter and looked over.

Naime was with some of the other  _gona_. Bellamy watched them talk. Beyind them, to the north was Franklinfiled and beyond that the wharepuni. And beyond that - Tondc and Jaharein. No one called him kom Skaikru. Now it was Belomi kom matawaka Karapukekru. Or just Belomi.

Frost lingered later into the mornings but snow had yet to fall. Bellamy added his bones to Enutanga's pile. He wondered what Octavia was doing. Had it snowed further north? Were they warm enough? Had the Counsel exiled anyone else? 

Enutanga shaded her eyes as she looked east. Beyond the river, to the edge of the sea, where her people lived. Bellamy wondered what had brought her here and what would make her leave. He wondered if she was homesick.

"What is a taitamāhinetanga?"

She clicked her tongue as she passed a bug from hand to hand. It was large. It looked like a stick had come to life, narrow legs, sharp legs. He watched her watch the bug move.

"A young woman." Her hand trembled. "A woman no longer a child, but not yet a mother."

Bellamy realised. "Is that why you are here?"

Enutanga looked up, met his eye. "To become a mother? No." She grinned. "Unless you offer - but no. I am here because I am tohunga matakite, and your Jefson asked me to perform tangi."

"Has someone died?" He hadn't heard anything. It was not unusual to have a death every few months. Usually a child or an elder, too fail to survive a sudden illness or chill. 

"No, but someone will soon." She looked at Naime and the others. Her mouth thinned into a frown. 

"Why?"

"That is the nature of things."

Bellamy narrowed his eyes. Enutanga didn't look nervous. She looked said. "What's going to happen?"

She sighed and set down her bowl. Both of their meals had been forgotten. "Naime will tell you tonight. I can't - i'm not allowed to tell you."

"Alright." Bellamy didn't pretend to understand the customs but he respected them.

While she left, during hongi, she whispered something too low for him to hear.

Naime watched Enutanga pass. She excused herself from the other instructors.

Her face was twisted with some expression Bellamy couldn't place. Concern, maybe. 

"Inside," was all she said. He followed her into their quarters. If it got any colder they would have to double up with another  _mumu_ and second. He had kept it clean despite getting up before the sun rose and only sleeping after it had set. Naime unbranded her hair. It reached her waist and had a shine like oil. Bellamy watcher her brush it, rebind it tightly to her head.

When she was settled on her bed, face tipped to the ceiling, she began to speak. "You're not a  _tore kai huruhuru_ , not ready to start moko. Jami wanted to give you pakituri. He said it was because you have been away too long, and will forget the face of your father." Bellamy was sitting on the floor. He watched her swallow. It was too dim to see clearly. Her tattoos merged with the shadows. "I think he expected you to fail. If you broke," she closed her eyes. She opened them and turned her head to face him. "Bellamy, if you broke tapu you would be sent back." 

He leaned forward. "What do you mean?"

Naime rubbed her face, knuckled her eyes. "If you spoke or ate during pakituri - if I let you - then you would be sent home. You would have failed. And so would I."

"That," Bellamy stood. His legs shook. He could have gone home months ago. He wouldn't had to kill anyone. "That wasn't your choice to make."

Naime sat up. "It was, Bellamy. I should have told you, yes, but your choice? No. No, Bellamy there is no choice here."

"What about tomorrow?"

Naime groaned. It was a broken sound. "It will be your first tā moko. I was supposed to start the tapu, but I wanted to explain it to you."

"I won't do it," Bellamy backed up until his knees hit the bed. "I won't - I'll break the tapu. I want..." All he could think was  _I want Octavia I want to go home_. 

Naime reached out and took his hands. They were as rough as his own, warm in the falling chill. So different from Abby Griffin. "Enutanga lost a sister. She fell a week ago and broke her head open on a rock. She died yesterday. Enutanga wants you to take part in  _tangihanga_. She is part of the  _whānau_ and cannot face this alone. To Enutanga her sister is not dead until _tangihanga_  is over."

Naime let his hands go.

"I promise you, on Paerau, on my kohika the atua tengongohau, that you will go home. I know you have a sister. You will see her again. But you cannot quit. You cannot leave in shame."

Bellamy nodded. Naime looked at his face closely.

"They are bringing the body here. You will guard it. It usually takes three days - you cannot talk or eat. Just listen," she touches his shoulder gently. "I will do whatever it takes to get you home but you have to help me."

"Alright." There was something stirring inside of him. Hope. It was small and quiet. He thought he had forgotten what it was, or accepted that he would never see a Skaikru again. He touched her shoulder in return. Naime smiled with her dark eyes.

"That's it Bellamy. Hold onto that." Then she pulled a green shirt out of her bag. "And get changed."


	16. Chapter 16

Octavia's hands were so chapped they bled. Her fingers shook and slipped as she plucked feathers off another duck. Shi'ea was busy with the Griffins, and Lincoln was doing his best to beat the guard into the frozen ground, one member at a time. Lexa's coalition was holding though the winter, but it was a brittle alliance, one that could easy crack with the coming thaw. 

Although Octavia doubted spring would ever come. Rationing was in full effect and she often went to bed hungry. Sometimes Shi'ea would slip her hard, bitter bits of sap that would break under her teeth and flood her mouth with sweetness. Some of the families boiled bark and ate the soft wood within. The meds tried to stop it, but compared to hunger, anything was eatable. Most girls hadn't bleed yet. Abby Griffin said it was malnutrition. Seven girls were already pregnant. Octavia had no chance of it - Lincoln was avoiding her. When he came back with Clarke there was panic. 

But after it stetted he drew away and into himself. 

Feathers stuck to her face and clothes. It was so cold that the meat was getting stiff. The skin was tearing under her fingers. Fine. Octavia stripped it instead. The meat was a dark purple-red. It looked nothing like the meat in vids or books. Monty guessed it was a lack of domestication. Shi'ea told stories of goats, small friendly ones you could hand-feed and butcher with ease. Most trade stopped as the winter set in. Some of the Argo people thought with a few goats the Arkers would be more secure. As if they were ever secure. In space they were threatened by everything around them. Down here? It was no different. The threats were just more visible.

Octavia used an ax to chop the ice off a bucket and plunged her hands it. At first it was horribly painful, but her fingers soon when numb. She awkwardly moved them back and forth. The feathers fell off and blood made the water tinted. Tainted. Her hands were twitching as she dried them. Inside the Ark was humid with breath. Heavy couching echoed off the walls. 

At least five children had whooping cough. A young man twisted his ankle in a hunt and died of exposure. He had been left where he was found. The ground was too hard to bury him. Two people had just vanished into the woods. When Octavia asked, Shi'ea called it _winter madness._ Lincoln called it weakness and avoided her eyes. 

Octavia huddled by a grate. Steam issued out of it, almost scalding, making her hair damp and curl. This was Raven's idea. Convection heating with boiling water. Abby had approved. The thick air make everyone choke on mucus. Rags to blow in were are rare commonality. She drifted, leaning on the wall. Siggy must have taking a liking to the Arkers - or pitted them. She would give sporadic updates on Bellamy. He was alive. He was healthy. He was doing well. Shi'ea came from the same area. Sometimes she would tell Octavia stories of her village. One night, in a fit of boredom, she showed Octavia markings on her legs.

"I have a husband," she whispered in the dark. "A secret husband. He lives south of Tondc, by what his people call Karapuke, the small hill." 

The makings were small, neat lines. They looked like bird tracks in the snow. "And," her breath was slightly sour. "The others, who were here? They belong to a kru near by. That might narrow down where your bother is."

Octavia looked a the tattoos. They were uniform, from Shi'ea's hips to the top of her knees. "Really?"

"Yes." Shi'ea pulled her pants back on and stretched. She patted a leg. "This tells the story of my people, and his, and what we will create together. My people are from the high mountains. We live in the cold and the rocks - his people are different. They came from across the sea, a place of silver fens and birds the size on men."

"And Bellamy's with them?" There was something easing in her chest. If Shi'ea married someone, loved someone, from there, they couldn't be cruel.

"He could be." Shi'ea smiled. "If he is - it's a beautiful place. It doesn't get as cold."

"How did you meet?"

Shi'ea flopped back on her bed. "Well, my mother and her mother wanted to take a herd of milking goats to the sea, to trade for rope..." 

Octavia listened to the story as the night waned. she was sure half of it was fiction, but the emotion  - the love and joy - could not be faked. 

"I'm going to take him home one day, and present him to my mother's mother. She'll talk with him and see how wonderful he is. Then He'll be Welyu kom Ziegekru."

"Do all men take their wives kru?"

"No. Sometimes there is no husband, just a man. The there is a child. But I want more than that. I want love. I want someone who will want me when I am old and gray and small."

Octavia sighed. She wanted that too. She wanted so many things. Hearing the Bellamy was safe - made other things easier. 

The Counsel lost interest in saving him. The remaining delinquents moved back with their families, if they had any. Kane formally pardoned them weeks ago. The ceremony was an excuse to have a party, to eat themselves sick and pretend everything was fine. Some people had gotten drunk. Octavia watched Wick try to dance with Harper. Monroe was asleep at a table, her face covered in tears and her mother holding her hand. Lincoln drank himself sick and avoided everyone. He only spoke in Trigedasleng. Shi'ea had to drag him to bed. Octavia tried to ignore the jealously and guilt and that night lay in the cold and watched the stars. She wondered if space felt this cold, or if your were just torn into atoms without feeling anything. She might not have had a proper education, but there were things everyone learned - anger, fear, love. She woke the next morning covered in frost. No one had found her in the dark.

She was half dreaming that night now, leaning against the warm wall. Someone gently shook her shoulder. Through her blurry eyes she wasn't sure who it was. Then she blinked and it was Lincoln. He looked more unsure than she had ever seen him. 

"Hello."

He smiled tightly. It was a start.

"Hello," he replied. Then, almost offhandedly, "It is almost the shortest day."

"Oh." Octavia stretched. Something in her back clicked. There was a sharp pain. She rolled her shoulders to dislodge it. 

"I'm..." Lincoln's hand dropped to his pocket. She knew he kept something there. "I'm going to visit my mother."

The disappointed was dulled by distance. So he was leaving too. "For how long?"

Lincoln blinked hard. The fake light made him seem gaunt. Sick. Grounders didn't do well in metal boxes. "Only a few days. This is something I can't miss. I've been..." He swallowed hard. "I have not seen her in a long time. I've neglected my duties as a son."

Octavia wanted to comfort him. She didn't know what to say. Her mother had neglected her own duties, and Octavia only felt a faint longing towards her. But she was gone, and so was Bellamy. "I'm sorry."

"I'd like you to meet her." Lincoln rubbed the thing in his pocket, then withdrew his hand. "If you would like to."

Family. She missed it horribly. Octavia looked at Lincoln. She tired to image his mother. Would she be tall, like him? Or maybe have the shape of his nose or face or eyes? Maybe she had his laughter, or his kindness. Octavia knew she and Bellamy had different fathers. They looked nothing alike. The only thing that made them alike was their bond, their closeness - their love. Octavia felt it fraying. In the Skybox she could recall him perfectly. The way he smiled. The voices he made when he told her stories at night. Now only months had passed and she could barely remember his face. 

"I'd like to meet her as well." She shook her feet to chase away the pin and needles. "Is she coming here?"

"No," he looked happy now. There was a lightness in his eyes. "We have to visit her. She'd love you. I..." He shook his head, still grinning. "She doesn't take me too seriously."

Octavia laughed, hard. It was suddenly the funniest thing she'd heard all day. "Oh, no one does, Lincoln."

He grabbed her into a hug. It felt like home. Like family. Octavia fell into it without hesitation. It felt good not to be alone. 


	17. Chapter 17

Clarke was sitting only an arm's length away. Lincoln wasn't sure how to say goodbye. So he said nothing at all, just hugged her briefly and then let her go.

Octavia followed him out of the gates. The snow fell everyday now. It was loose, clung to their clothes like summer mud. Shi'ea had helped them strap boughs to their feet so they could walk on top of the snow. No one contested them leaving.

"Just come back." Abby's eyes were cold as the wind. "Bellamy will be home soon."

This was news to them all. Clarke had stiffened then walked away. Abby watched her daughter go. She wasn't one to show emotions, to show weakness. 

Now they were deep in the forest. Lincoln pulled a rabbit off the snare. It had frozen during the night. It was a stiff as a board. Octavia used a knife to pry some sap from a tree. They would leave these behind soon. Once they entered the aspen they would be truly on their way. 

The world was white and quiet. Lincoln smeared ash under his eyes to cut through the blinding glare of the sun off the snow. At midday they made a fire on the snow and boiled the rabbit in a can. He was in awe of the invisible seams in the metal. The container was light and strong. There was the aftertaste of some plant matter in the broth. As they walked they sucked on dried fruit. He had to keep reminding Octavia to drink.

"I don't feel like I'm sweating," she would pant into the cold.

"You never will." Lincoln took another sip. "The cold pulls the sweat right off you."

She would complain, but she would drink.

As they traveled he showed her how to build shelters; a snow cave, a lean-to, once a shoddy wigwam. Tonight they were huddled under the massive branches of a spruce. Octavia pulled some down to made a bed. She rolled so her back to to him. They were family, he knew, but something had broken between them. It would take time to mend. So he showed them the constellations he knew. 

"That's the spear of destiny." He felt her shift and look up to the sky. "It was carried by the King. The King was a singer. He was known for his voice, the way he moved. My mother used to sing his songs to my when I was younger. He lived in a place far from here. My mother's father came from there. Before he came there was a war and one kru enslaved the other. While he wandered he taught them to live together. He also met the Leader, another king who came from beyond Tondc. The Leader was a godspeaker and led a march on Tondc. There they pulled down the slavers and the Leader became _heda_ of the people for years and years. The King carried the spear through it all. He died on a throne."

Octavia looked up and traced the spear with her finger. "What would she sing?"

Lincoln cleared his throat. "I can't sing. Not like she did. But it would go 'wise men say only fools rush in/but I can't help falling in love with you'. I can't remember the rest."

She barked out a laugh next to him. "Are you serious?" Her eyes shined with tears. "You cannot..." She pressed her hands to his chest, gripped the front of his shirt.

"What?"

"That's... That's Elvis! Fran, in the cell next to me, she knew all his songs. 'Blue Suede Shoes', 'Heartbreak Hotel'," she elbowed him, teasing. "'Can't Help Falling In Love'. He wasn't a real king, you know. He was the King of Rock and Roll."

"Really." Lincoln looked at the stars. He wasn't sure if he should tell her about Ya'kwahewak or the rest. What if the were all people too? Or maybe this Elvis had gotten his songs and power from the King, or was the son of the King. Gods had children all the time. They spread the seed like a bird spreads its wings. Things were different in the sky, he knew. Most of them lacked gods or elders or honor.  

"Who was the Leader? Does he have a spear?"

"No." Lincoln shook his head. It was warm down here, under the tree. "He has a statue in Tondc. I'll show it to you when we return to Jaharein."

"Alright." She made small balls of snow and tossed them into the untouched piles. They punched holes into the banks. it was quiet. "I'm not mad," she whispered. "I'm disappointed that you didn't find him. No one knew where he was but you did your best."

Lincoln swallowed. "He will come back." He didn't trust Abby, but he believed her. Sending Bellamy hadn't worked in the way she intended. It made her people distrust her and brokered false treaties made on air and lies. If Bellamy didn't return or if he was kept by the Karapukekru there would be war. Even if the man didn't want it he would have to come home. 

At least he would be useful in a fight. Kane's attempts at teaching the Skaikru were poor. The people from the sky were weak. They caught sickness with ease. They moved as if weighed by the very air they breathed. 

It surprised him out of his thoughts when Octavia took his hand.

"He'll come home." It was a gentle correction. Her eyes reflected the stars. 


	18. Chapter 18

Clarke didn’t pretend to listen as her mother brushed her hair. The room was bright. It still felt unreal, to be back in the metal walls of the Ark. Abby was talking about something but Clarke watched a spider move with trembling legs from the ceiling to the floor. There were no bugs in space. Everything was sterile. There was no meat – not that she remembered. The first few days on the ground everyone who ate meat was violently ill. She thought it was undercooked but they just couldn’t process it. Bellamy and Finn had gotten into a violent struggle to eat as much as often as possible. Finn said he wanted to acclimate. Bellamy gave no reason, but she was sure he just wanted to win.

From the corner of her eye Clarke saw he mother hold something out. It looked like a cookie. She took it with trembling hands. When she bit into it she could taste the sweet hint of coca. It felt waxy on her tongue.

“Chocolate?” She still had trouble speaking. There was a tube in her throat to help her breathe. At night she still had to be hooked up to oxygen. Once she entrained the idea of opening the valve and chocking to death on it. But somehow she never got the energy.

“Yes.” Her mother was tiding Clarke’s desk. There was a whole set of watercolors she didn’t use. “We’ve been able to use the supplies in the mountain for months now. On one else wants it.”

 _I doubt that_. How could the other kru not want the treasure – the technology and food and medicine – right before them? The winter must have held them back. If Lexa had seen how the Arkers had stripped it, there would be war. Clarke worked on finishing the rest of her cookie. It felt too dry when she swallowed.

“Dinner won’t be for another few hours.”

“That’s fine,” Clarke closed her eyes. “I was going to take a nap.”

Her mother watched her struggle into bed then quietly shut the door. After a few moments Monty ducked in.

“She’s gone.” He looked excited. More excited than she wanted and she already felt drained.

“Good.”

Monty handed her a bag of water. “I’ve talked to Raven. According to some gossip Bellmay’s coming back soon.”

“Does anyone know where he went?”

Monty shook his head. “There’s a Grounder who comes sometimes named Siggy. She might have a thing for Briggs. She was there when Bellamy was handed over. And she knows where he is.” He saw Clarke’s expression. “She’s not telling. She wouldn’t even tell Octavia. But there is someone who can help us.”

Clakre sucked on the bag. The water had a soft hint of something. Perhaps florurde? She wasn’t sure. “Who?”

“Her name’s Shi’ea. She’s was really close to Octavia.” There was a knock on Clarke’s door. They both froze. Then a voice hiss against the metal.

“Ai laik Shi’ea kom Ziegekru.”

Monty looked thrilled. He took a step towards the door, reaching for the handle. “That’s her.”

“Let her in.” Clarke ignored her voice cracking.

Clarke’s first impression of the Grounder was her hands. They were small, almost childlike. She looked like she was swimming in her clothes. They weren’t furs, like Clarke was used to seeing, but a heavy wool sweater and skin leggings. She moved so Monty could shut the door behind her.

“It’s good to meet you, heda.”

“You too.”

The Grounder moved the lone chair in the room so she could sit on it. “I’m glad the rot did not kill you.”

“Me too.”

Monty awkwardly sat on the foot of her bed. “I told her you know where Bellmay is.”

The Grounder nodded. When she grinned Clarke could see scars on her cheeks. “I think I do.”

This was too much. Clarke groaned and waved her hand. “Why did he leave in the first place?”

Monty looked at Shi’ea then at the floor. “He didn’t leave.”

“Your Council banished him,” the Grounder jumped in. “They saw him as weak, with keryonlaudnes.” She saw their confusion. “Bedrückung? No? His self was injured by what he had seen and he lost what made him Belomi.”

Clarke knew what she meant. She felt that now trapped in the sunken vessel of the Ark.

“So they kicked him out.” Monty jumped it. “Harper still thinks it’s because your mom was angry he couldn’t get you to stay.”

“No one could have gotten me to stay.” There was a small voice crying inside of her but she smothered it until it stopped. Her head was a muffled emptiness. She knew they had to get Bellamy back. The Council had already dispersed and relocated most of the hundred. Whenever Clarke felt like she needed to do something – speak at the table, go and get dinner – she was trapped by an absolute lack of caring. Some days she wouldn’t even get out of bed. She’d state at the ceiling and do nothing. Hours would slip by and she wouldn’t notice.

The portable vid screen Raven smuggled her had never even been tuned on.

“If he is with the kru I think he is, they will fix him.” Shi’ea reached out and took Clarke’s hand. “He will be healed. As you will be.”

Clarke pulled her hand into a fist. “I’m fine.”

The Grounder flicked her eyes over to Monty then nodded. “Yes, heda.” She rose and rummaged on Clarke’s desk. Octavia had left a few books and she traced her fingers over the covers. “I am learning to read in gonasleng – English. May I come practice with you?” She did not look at Clarke as she spoke.

Clarke saw Monty freeze. Were they really so tender around her? Clarke looked at the desk, at the small hands cradling The Illiad.

“Sure,” the words felt heavy on her tongue. “Sure.”

Next to her Monty relaxed.


	19. Chapter 19

He never thought green was the color of death, of mourning. To him it was black – the darkness, the finality, the endless reach of space. The shirt he wore was so newly dyed he felt it stuck, tacky, to his skin. He hadn’t had a drink in three days. His mouth felt sour. When he licked his lips they were so dry they cracked. The blood tasted like the metallic bite of an electric shock.

The body lay on a pile of wood. It looked like unlit pyre.

She looked no older than fifteen. Her hair was unbound and lay loose over her shoulders. A cloth covered her face. It was red.

Naime had visited the first night. She joined in with a haka as the body was carried in. Bellamy never heard her name. No one spoke it. They just walked up to the body, touched it, and shared something. The room was never crowded but it was never empty when the sun was up. People shared different things. An old man recited a poem. A middle aged woman with a baby on her back spoke of how clever and funny the girl was. Bellamy hadn’t heard Trigedasleng or gonasleng in hours. The roe hammered at his head.

He could see the slight differences between his kru’s moko and the ones that traveled from where Enutanga lived. Their markings were bluer and the lines were thicker. He recognized one of the men from the small group that had stayed with Briggs. Bellamy wondered if he could ask him about the Arkers. If he could ask him about Octavia.

Enutanga sang to the body. Her voice was quiet under the chatter throughout the room. Bellamy wasn’t allowed to look. He was a guard. His duty was to protect the body and not move. Naime watched him for a while, as the people ebbed and flowed around them. She wasn’t allowed to speak to him. To the living he was as good as invisible. He took comfort in her all the same. He wasn’t alone.

By the third morning he felt lightheaded. There was something bright through the windows that made him squint his eyes. The body was starting to go soft. At night he could hear the sounds it made, the sighs of death. Only the closest family stayed with it. During the latest hours he would drift sometimes. His thoughts would only be in roe. He would half-dream in it. Sometimes he would retrace the places he knew in the Ark. He could, in his mind, recreate the exact pattern on a blanket his mother hid in the back of her closet. The door opened. A welcome breeze flowed in, chasing out the smells of death and unwashed bodies. Enutanga’s family came in with a sling. Bellamy and the other guards lifted the body into it. They carried it down past the river. As they passed the fields, he saw they were empty. There wasn’t a person working. The animals were not released. From behind _Karapuke_ rose thin smoke and the smell of meat. Bellamy’s stomach tightened. He could hear it growling.

The bridge was the first thing that hurt. It made him wake a bit. The wood was uneven and the edges caught the skin of his feet.

They were already there. Over the heads of the people were the _gonafluc._ He never realized how big they were. He could almost hear Finn. He would recite facts to them sometimes at the dropship, like the Earth was a test that he refused to fail.

 _Their wingspan can be up to six feet_ , he would say. _They have a unique ability to counteract botulism. In their guts somewhere. That’s why they’re so good at eating dead things._

She was a dead thing, this body he helped carry. There was another unlit pyre here. And there stood Enutanga atop it with a knife and dry eyes. It was hard to see it as she did.

They lay the body at her feet. With deft movements she split open the arms and legs. The skin was no more resistant than paper. Below it was yellow fat and then purple red meat and white white bones. Then she pulled the cloth free.

It was impossible not to react but Bellamy held firm. He couldn’t fail. The left side looked slightly sagged, as if the girl had frowned. The right side was a mess of hair and skull. He could see where they had pulled the rock free. She had been alive, he suddenly remembered. She was alive when they pulled her from the river. She was alive when they ripped the rock from her face. It took her days to die. He wondered if she was awake for any of it. Had she been trapped in a broken mind? Or maybe, hopefully, she stopped thinking after she hit the rock.

When Enutanga climbed down from the pile of wood she handed the knife to him. It was not as bloody as he expected. It just looked slightly dirty. He held it as they walked away back to the wharepuni. Naime took him aside. She handed the knife off to a mumu Bellamy thought he recognized. Between the bural and now she had changed into her regular clothes. She helped him pull off the shirt then handed him a glass of water. The tapu was ended when he drank. He did not break it. She gripped his shoulder hard.

“You did well.” There was an angry joy in her face. “I am proud you are my second.”

It took him time to speak. He had to drink more before he could open his mouth. “Thanks.”

“You will need to take tapu soon, for the moko. But you will be ready and good for it.” She shoved a clean shirt into his arms. “There’s food outside. Come when you’re ready.”

He stood in the room and watched her go. Despite the chill outside, the floor in front of the windows was warmed by the sun. The shelves were full of books. On the desk nearest him was a folio. Someone had left it open, and the pages were covered in drawings. One page had what looked like a diagram of a sheep. Each part was dissected by dashed lines and marked with a word. Below it was a pig and on the face page a camel. He turned it over. On the back was a deer, painstakingly rendered. It was a butcher’s diagram he realized. Cuts of meat for each animal. He carefully put the page down. Lincoln had said his people could not read or write. Bellamy traced some of the words. Then this must be roe, not gonasleng. How many other kru were there, out in the woods? How many spoke languages besides gonasleng or Trigedasleng? How many had rituals like the one he had just seen – that he had taken part in – were there? He couldn’t imagine standing there, in front of a crowd, dressed in green and cutting Octavia open. Leaving her there for vultures to tear apart.

Naime was waiting for him outside. She stood on the back porch. Bellow them was shouting and laughter. She was holding a drink. He could smell the liquor on her breath.

“Winter will reach its height soon.” Her voice was low. Some of the people were digging the pigs out of the ground. Bellamy could see where it steamed the frozen dirt into mud.

“When?”

Naime shrugged. She gave him her cup. The metal was thin and he could fell the cold from the drink sinking into his fingers. “Time moves onward. I forgot sometimes, but then in morning I feel older than I have ever been.”

Bellamy took a sip. It burned his cracked lips. “Kron bilaik fas om woda.”

Naime grinned. “Yes.” She cut her eyes to him. He could feel her looking at the edges of his face, measuring him. “The moko will not be so bad.” Her flippancy was an attempt at being reassuring, he guessed. “You have a strong features.”

“Hmm.” He did not want it. She knew that. But there was nothing they could do. He could not more fight this than the exile that led him here, then the cages and the darkness and the pain. He wanted to be a member of the Ark. They would judge him when he came back. They would see him as a Grounder, as an outsider. Maybe as a traitor.

They watched the people below celebrate. Bellamy hadn’t thought of the mountain in months. It idea sickened him. Had he forgotten what he fought for? Was he forgetting who he was? Naime would have no answers so he took another sip.

“Where will you go after you are home?”

“I don’t know.” He hadn’t considered it.

“You will be expected to be a great fighter. People will know from here to the Ice Plains that you can fight.”

“Can I?” He hadn’t had a fight since the low men. All he did now was run and copy Naime through haka and taka, the slow repatriations of battles. He missed his gun. Fighting seemed easier then constantly training for nothing. He wanted to hunt. He wanted to do something. He might not have enjoyed his job at the old camp, but his life was easier. There was no fanfare when they buried their dead, or when they burned the people of Mt. Weather.

“You could be a tianara or whakamāoritanga, for your people or at Tondc. Most do not know roe. The Jefsun will treat with you over all others, after you leave.”

“What about after she dies?”

Naime shook her head. “Jefsun not just a woman, Belmoi. She had ascended. Our heda cannot die. They are both man and woman – that is why they have both moko. When they are buried there will be another Jefsun, as there was and as there will be, forever.”

Bellamy looked to where Jefsun stood. He never wondered about the leader. Standing infront of a small crowd he could easily see the moko of both and the mix on her legs the blending of pakituri.

“I know your people do tangi differently. But you are here now. If you died tomorrow, how should I honor you?”

Bellamy took a long pull from the cup. He couldn’t feel his feet anymore and his ears burned. “Burn me.”

“And not feed the animals?” She laughed at him. “I will do as you ask, but mumu, your people are wasteful and selfish.”

“They are.” He didn’t agree but he didn’t feel like arguing. This was supposed to by about joy. To honor a life with more life. “And you.”

“This,” Naime’s eyes reflected the cooking fires, the light of the setting sun. “This is good.”


	20. Chapter 20

Lincoln left her standing awkwardly at the fork of the path.

"I'll be right back," he had promised. "I just need to get some things. Then we're going to meet her."

"Shouldn't I get cleaned up?" She knew that she must smell awful. She could feel the tacky sweat on her face.

"No." Lincoln grinned, looking younger, almost boyish. "She'll love you. Don't worry."

When he vanished abound the bend Octavia shrugged out of her coat. The hair on her arms stood up in the cold.  She used handfuls of snow to rub the smell off. It squeaked as she used it.

The sun looked an off white in the winter sky. She wondered if it was as cold where Bellamy was. She wondered if he still work at night, shaking from the nightmares. Nobody knew him as well as she did. Nobody ever would. The cold of the snow stung her hand. She threw the hardened clumps and they punched holes into the pristine landscape. 

She almost wished she could do what Clarke had done. Just up and left on day - no words, no explanation. No responsibilities. It mustn't have been too great if she returned the way she did. Octavia had been the one to hold down Clarke's left ankle when the doctor pulled the implant free. It had been the most disgusting thing Octavia had ever seen. Worse than the bodies because Clarke was alive and she smelt like rot. They kept her sedated for days. Abby was convinced her daughter would live but one of the nurses pulled Octavia and Raven aside and said the chance to toxic shock was very high. That night Raven built a dialysis machine from the mess of her room.  It took seven blood transfusions. No one had ever been worth that much blood on the Ark. 

Lincoln returned in on minutes. Octavia left her coat off. It felt too hot, to damp with sweat. She'd let it air as they walked. Lincoln led the way up the other path.

"I didn't see her last time I came." He admitted.

"Is she going to be disappointed?" Octavia smiled to soften the jest. 

"I think she's going to be too surprised."

The way grew steeper. At one point there were stairs carved unto a length of rock. It was slippery and Octavia kept close to the rock face. "How much further?" She could see the forest beginning to spread out below. The thick evergreen hid any movement below.

"At the top." Lincoln gasped as he climbed. "You'll see it."

They struggled up in the quiet. Octavia could see her breath steaming in front of her. It was thick and white and reminded her of the plumes of smoke off the rockets that launched from Cape Canaveral. When she was younger she wondered why they had to circle the Earth. If it was as dead as her mother and Bellamy insisted, why didn't they just move to the Moon? No one ever told her. No one ever told her anything.

As the climbed the wind grew stinger until it made her eyes water. Lincoln was a blur only feet ahead. Her fingers were cramping in the cold. She kept stubbing her frozen feet on rocks in the path. The gourd was so hard it felt like she was stomping as she walked.

At the top of the hill was an ornate building. The top of the hill was clear cut except for a massive tree growing out of the log house. On the lip of the roof crouched scowling creatures. They were painted in shades of blue and red and white. The pupil-less eyes were eerie. 

"She lives here?" Octavia hissed. She couldn't hear anything. The wind was a high screaming. Her scalp was so cold her teeth ached. Her heart was beating too hard her fingers fumbled uselessly. Lincoln took her hand and used the other to pull the door open.

It was pitch black inside. The walls were thick enough to keep out the cold but the noise leaked in from hidden places. Octavia tried to turn on her flashlight but she couldn't feel the switch.

"We won't be long," Lincoln's voice carried in the darkness. "Don't move. I'll get us a light."

His lamp clicked on loudly. Octavia stumbled back so quickly she cracked her head on the door. The building was one massive room with shelves and shelves of skulls. 

"What is this?" Her voice sounded too loud. The shiny domes gleamed.

"This is the Place-Where-They-Lay." Lincoln said. "Come on." Either he was ignoring her horror or he didn't see it. "She's right over here."

Not all the shelves were full, she saw. Some had a gap between the skull while others were just bare. He pulled her down one and stopped in front of rack. Then he knelt down and picked one up from the bottom shelf.

"Here she is." And he handed Octavia his mother's head.

Her hands were so sweat-slick and frozen she almost dropped it. The jaw was missing and it was bleached white. She locked eyes with the sockets and something settle over her shoulders. Disassociation. It was like she was suddenly snapped into a dream. The place was full of ghosts.

"Are you going to say hello?" Lincoln's voice sounded far away.

"Hello." Octavia repeated. "Hi. I'm Octavia." Then she repeated it in Trigedasleng. This was too strange.

"She likes you." Lincoln said. Octavia swallowed. She had never seen a human skull before. Even after the drop-ship and the battles there had never been anything like this. The skull had all it's  - her - teeth. She was dead. Did Lincoln think he was talking to his dead mother? Octavia had never believed in anything. Never had faith or belief or - she knew about science, knew about what really happened after you died. Nothing. The Arkers burned or bodies because it was sanitary and respectful. Did any of them do this? Build shines to the dead. It was bizarre. It was grotesque. 

"I like her too." Octavia said. The racks kept going beyond the edge of the lamp. The rows of death diapered into the darkness and Octavia had a sudden fantastical fear that she could walk into the darkness and just vanish in the nothingness. No one would ever find her. 

Maybe that's where the dead went after all.


	21. Chapter 21

When she slipped into the water the dirt smeared on her skin muddied it. It reminded her of standing in the shadow of the drop-ship and wiping blood from her body. The events of the past few months were a discolored blur. Abby would come by at night and try to pry memories or information free.

"Did anyone help you?" She would ask. "Did anyone hurt you?"

Clarke didn't know. She had flashes of clarity. When she stood in the kitchen, surrounded by stream and the thick smell of fish, she would remember the same feeling of being fed, being comforted, somewhere underground. There were stairs and a painting on the wall - a demon with hidden eyes and a red suit. Then it would vanish. She wasn't sure when the implant shifted and the infection started. She remembered being too hot. The would was white and empty and she thought her brain would boil right out of her skull. So she stripped. It didn't stop. Clarke had no memory of Lincoln finding her. It was only later, after he woke her the next morning and forced water down her throat, that she came back to herself. 

Abby wouldn't let her in the med bay so Clarke took a shift running the scraps to the pigs. They were loud and massive. At night they would pile in a shack and Clarke could see steam rising off their backs. Raven avoided the animals entirely. 

"I don't mind eating them." She snapped two bits of plastic together. "They're just ugly."

"Even the horses?" Clarke hadn't known Raven on the Ark but after she crashed to earth the woman talked endlessly about the awesome power of the horses the Grounders had. 

"Even the horses."

Monty loved the horses almost as much as he loved their waste. Today Clarke had shoved the mess of straw and shit into buckets and carried them to the compost. It was always warm buy the boxes. Jasper had poured boiling water over some of the higher piles to water them down. He ignored her. Monty had been a quite pacifier between them, making conversation with two stone walls. Clarke tried not to feel slighted but she usually went to be angry. She wasn't allowed to hide anymore. Every morning Monty and Shi'ea dragged her out of bed and locked the door behind her. She still ate alone. 

Post of the women were trying to get pregnant. The thought disgusted Clarke.  The pain and smell and rot she had forced out made the thought of something else inside of her sick. The docs insisted that she was in perfect health but Abby would watch her with hooded eyes. 

She'ia cursed heavily when she stepped into a puddle of water. Clarke cracked open a eye.

"What's up?"

Shi'ea held up a book. Clarke couldn't see the title, but the cover showed a girl with blonde hair crouched with an intent look on her face. More Nancy Drew. 

"Bring it here," Clarke ordered. She didn't know when the first one had come out, but there were about a million and the Mountain had every copy. Half the time Clarke had to explain, poorly, what a car or telephone or ranch was. Shi'ea was gullible, for all the praises Siggy gave her. Clarke opened to where they had left off. Nancy and her friends had just caught someone acting suspiciously. 

After a while Clarke's voice cracked and her throat hurt. She slipped a scrap of fabric in to mark the page and sighed.

Shi'ea was sitting on the wet floor, back pressed to the tiles. "Nancy is very clever." Her eyes were tracking a moth that circled the lamp hanging above. "I think I will name my first child Nancy."

"What if it's a boy?" Clarke used her toes to pull the plug free. The plumbing was rough and only dumped the waste-water into a ditch on the far side of camp. 

Shi'ea shrugged. "It is a good name."

"It's a girl's name," Clarke insisted. She didn't know why she was arguing. It didn't matter. But she was tried of being talked at, of being treated like glass. She wanted to fight. "Don't be stupid."

Shi'ea didn't rise to the bait. "I'm not stupid." When she looked over her gaze was cunning. "And neither are you. Don't use me to make you feel better."

Clarke knelt in the tub. "Who said anything about using you?" The anger was blooming into a headache that echoed the thrum of her heart. 

Shi'ea got to her knees as well. The rough knit of her sleeves scratched Clarke's arms as they leaned towards each other. The lamp seemed to flare brighter but maybe that was only in Clarke's heard. There was a ringing in her ears and then she was jerking Shi'ea foward, trying to kiss her. A hand to her chest stopped her.

The teasing light had died in Shi'ea's eyes. "I'm promised to another." The words were soft. "And I told you this."

"You did." Clarke agreed. "You also called my heda."

Shi'ea face crumpled into something else. Her hand rose to cup Clarke's face. "Oh, you are so lonely." The girl blindly grabbed a towel and wrapped it around Clarke's shoulders. "Come on, get up."

It was hard for Clarke to stand in the tub so Shi'ea helped her out of it, hands firm and warm on her elbows. It took both of them to dry her, Shi'ea brisk and Clarke sluggish and drained. She knew someone else had done this - tired to rub life back into her. Maybe it was Lincoln. Maybe it was someone else. She didn't know. 

Clarke was horrific to realize she was crying, great wracking sobs that caught something in her chest tore it out. Shi'ea was whispering as she gathered Clarke close. "It's alright. I'm here. Cry all you want, Kitz." She led them forward, out of the room, leaving a trail of wet footprints and a discarded book. "Come to bed, heda. You don't need to sleep alone."


	22. Chapter 22

 

He didn't want to look and she didn't make him. They were in the deep woods following the floundering path of a deer through the drifts. The snow had come sudden and wet. Naime had accepted an invitation so now their cramped house held four more people. Bellamy and the other trainees cooked and cleaned and fought under the watchful eye of their masters. 

 

She would pause and let him led for a few miles. The snowshoes kept them above the worst of the damp. As they follow the path carved by the deer's body grows wider and more erratic. Bellamy ignores the bite of cold air on his face, the curling itch of the ink in his skin. Enutanga had with her people. He didn't know why he expected her to stay. He liked her soft hands, the way she looked him straight in the eye. She did not pity him.  She had come to morn her sister. She had stayed for the start Bellmay's moko, had watched him suffer in silence with dark eyes. Ahead he could see the steaming bulk of a buck his antlers worn to stubs. Naime crept alongside. It was so tired it did not struggle. The knife slid easily into the back of its skull. The blood was hot over his hands. 

 

They dragged the body back. 

 

That night Naime knelt over him and tracked the new patterns she would add in the morning. Bellmay wished it was over. He was not allowed to speak when he woke and felt the pain. The tears slipped free and felt warm against his skin.

 

His face felt swollen, rubbed raw and his jaw ached. 

 

Naime was not one for false comforts. "You're doing well." They had slept outside. The rest were in the cabin. Through the haze of pre-dawn he could hear the camp coming to life.

 

The deer had been dressed. A rider had argued for the skin and Bellamy helped sew it into strips of useful cloth. His pants were too short now, the hems stopping at the tops of his ankles. His old shirt had fallen apart during a morning swim. There was no point in chasing after it. Parts of his past were slipping away bit by bit. This was what they wanted Griffin and Kane and all the rest. He hoped Octavia was alright, that she as safe. He wondered if Clarke was even alive.

 

After they ate she led him to a clearing. They stretched through the forms, slowly waking up. 

 

"You are almost done. I'll speak to Jefson." Her eyes glittered in the morning. "I will be there to guide you home."

* * *

 

Octavia sat outside. Her breath clouded the darkening sky. The figures on the roof seemed to glow in the moonlight. She wanted to go home. Not the the camp, but she missed the place under the floor. She missed her mother and Bellamy and wanted to go back to when life was simpler. 

"I miss my old life." It was a sudden confession. She loved the ground, the curve of the sky, the life here so expansive and strange but here she was finally able to mourn her past.

She remembered the jolt of excitement when Bellamy appeared out the crowd in the ship. He was full of the brash arrogance that had been mellowed. After the mountain he was quiet but he still looked her in the eyes. Shi'ea had convinced her that he would be alright. But she was worried she wouldnt' know him anymore.

Octavia hugged herself. The wind whine across the barren top of the Mountie. Below the forest spread. She knew that everyone was north west. And Bellamy was south. She turned that way. A few shuffling steps and she could be on her way. It would be a month's walk but she would make it, if only to look at his face again. 

The door slammed in the wind. Lincoln didn't look at her as he passed. 

She followed him down. The rocks skittered ahead. 

She wanted to follow them off the edge.

* * *

Clarke let She'ia bread her hair. They walked to the mess. Monty insisted they sit with her. 

"It's good to see you," Harper was shoveling a thin gruel into her mouth. Her fingers skittered across the tabletop.

"It's good to see you too." Clrake's face didn't ache when she smiled. She expected it to - expected it to shatter and fall like a mask. 

She'ia handed her a soft roll and a cup of water. It did not hurt to eat. It did not hurt to talk, to look at the other women and imagine seeing them again later, tomorrow. next week. There was a small curling hope licking up to heart. 

 


	23. Chapter 23

**FOUR MONTHS LATER**

Clarke ignored Monty until he was almost on top of her. There is a cool breeze. She likes the way it tugs on her hair.

“What’re you doing?” His knees pop as he crouches down next to her.

“Planting.” The potatoes in her hand are small; the skin is green, and the roots are clustered and frim. In a few weeks they would be brown and big enough to eat. She wipes her hands on a rag she keeps in her back pocket. Winter had melted away. In the past month spring had crept out from hibernation.

The snow had left. At first the ground was soggy but over time it had dried. Grass was pushing up, green as a mother board.

She felt good.

“Jasper has a new wheel set up at the creek.” The wheel was for a mill. Jasper was sure that flour would pour out of it. Kane was still trying to keep the wheat fields clear. The birds were a menace.  A few of the kids built a scarecrow. It hadn’t worked yet, so they ran between the rows shouting. That was a bit more effective.

It was a tentative peace they had created, her and Monty and Jasper.

Monroe was the catalyst. She slipped and broke her collarbone. While being carried into the bay she wailed enough to raise the dead. Between the crying fits she made Clarke promise to help Jasper. Doped on willow bark and some golden brew she was fine within the hour. Clarke had gone to talk to Jasper anyway.

“Who’s with him?”

“Raven and Briggs’ friend.”

“Siggy’s back?” The Grounder took She’ia one harsh winter day. Her kru needed her so she left. Clakre pressed a few books into her bulging bag _Little Women_ , and _For Whom the Bell Tolls_ , _Husbandry: a primer on modern farming for the educated man_. She’ia thanked her by hugging her close. Clakre thought her ribs would break. They had not kissed again.

“Yeah.” He saw her expression. “No one else though. She wants to see Abby.”

“Why?”

“No idea.”

They pulled some stunted carrots free. They looked like ragged hands. When Clarke split open a pea pod with her nail the seeds were too small. They were white and curled like a comma.

“Okay.” Clarke stood. She left the basket between the rows. “I’ll go talk to her.” She was walking, she was drawing. She could talk to her own mother.

Dodging the concerned citizens was easy. Her mother was in the war room. Her hip was pressed against the desk and her arms were loose at her sides. Maps were painted onto the walls. Siggy was already there. Her scars looked inflamed. She grinned when she saw Clarke.

“Hello girl.” She knew, somehow, about her a She’ia. She must have.

“Hello.”

Abby gestured to a chair. “Sit down, hon.”

The wood was smooth. It was honey colored and Clarke dug her nails into the soft lacquer. “How are you?”

“Good.” Her eyes smiled as well. “I am here to see Briggsa. And offer him a place in my _kru_. Your heda insisted I ask him.” Her laugh was kind.

“Oh. Con – congratulations.”

“Thank you. I also have news of the man from here – _Belomi._ ”

“What news?” Abby’s voice was sharp. Clarke didn’t want to judge her but she had shown little concern in the grip of snow.

“He is going to be returning to Tondc in a week’s time. He will be at your gates very soon.”

The air in the room was very still.

“Really?” It was a gasp. Clarke thought her heart had stopped for a moment. “Are you sure?”

“Very sure. I am excited to see him as well.” Siggy looked almost embarrassed to admit this.  

Abby’s hands curled into loose fists. “I am as well. I’ll let the council know this evening. We need to make arrangements.”

Clarke looked from one to the other. “Are you going to Tondc to meet him?”

“I might. Thank you for coming Siggy, and thank you for telling us. You have been a strong ally these past few months.”

When Siggy shrugged the motion rolled like a wave. “You know the agreement.”

“I do.” They shook.

Clarke watched Siggy leave. “What agreement?”

“They want some of ours to visit them. A few children and their mothers. Only for four weeks. Nothing like…”

“Like Bellamy?” A thought struck her. “Are you going to let him back? Or are you going there to tell him he’s no longer welcome.”

“Of course he’s welcome. He always will be. I don’t want him experiencing culture shock.”

Clarke wanted to argue. Was not being dumped from space shock enough? Instead she said, “Can I come?”

Abby shook her head. “No. I want you to take care of Octavia. I want you to tell her. No one else, but she needs to hear this.” _From Clarke_ , went unsaid, _from someone she trusted_.  

“Fine.”

“Thank you.” She pulled Clarke close. The hug felt stiff. At least she was trying. Clarke wrapped her arms around her mother. It was good.


	24. Chapter 24

Jefsun let him take a seat. It was still new, chafing, the ability to choose. Bellamy didn't feel like he was an adult - no more then when he was chosen to train for the guard or agreed to shoot Jaha. There was no advantage to appearing weak so he chose and he waited. The sheer size of the wharepuni made the room feel like a cavern.

"You have done well." She did not give praise often or without cause. "I expected you to fail. Many thought you were rejected from your place in the sky because you were unfit." When she smiles it is without warmth. "I now see your people hold different values then our own. Naime has spoken to you." It was not truly a question.

"She has."

"As Jefsun, heda kom matawaka Karapukekru, I will speak to you as well." 

He is quiet, as he is expected to be.

"You have been given much here Belomi. A name, a purpose, a place. Would you abandon it so easily?"

This was the reckoning he was warned of. The moko was finished before winter faded. His skin had not peeled and the dark lines ran over his face from forehead to chin. Anything reflective was avoided from a deep hidden embarrassment. He was treated as tore kai huruhuru. Naime had looked at him after he brought down five other mumu in drills and said, "I have done too well." 

Bellamy chose his words carefully. "I am honored by what you have allowed me to learn. This way of life must be shared with my people-"

"Are not my people your people, Belomi kom Karapukekru? Do you not sit here, in Karapuke, wearing the marks of our people and speaking our tongue?"

"I do."

"And did you not eat our food and work our lands? Did you not take part in tangihanga and represent me in your deeds?"

"I did." It was a trap, a sly noose that he let her wrap around his neck. Jefsun leaned back in her chair. It was a deep green and reminded Bellamy of death. "It was an honor to do these things."

"Will you repay all this kindness by leaving in dishonor?"

"No. A deal had been struck, between..." he paused. "Us and the Skaikru. I must go home."

"So you say." She did not wear armor or rings. Bellamy did not look at her bare feet. "Tell me. When is the last time you spoke gonasleng?"

He could not remember.

"You are quick. You are ruthless. There is a war coming. The Ice Queen amasses an army some say that are made of snow and dead hearts. To the West the ruler Lexia holds her nations with an iron fist. Tondc is a viper pit. Between these are your people, soft like the belly of a child. They will be torn apart." Jefsun leaned forward. "What worries me is what will become of my people when the war begins. I want no parley with the cold women and I do not trust the child ruler- she is young and unwise. So, tell me, Belomi of my people. If the ones you were born to are destroyed, will you return to defend those who have given you so much?"

She is expecting a complex answer. He thinks of Octavia, of the hundred and Clarke, the struggle of fear in the endless woods. Bellamy gives her a simple answer. "Yes, and I will bring with me those who survive."

Jefsun raises her eyebrows. This is a political game. _Abby was better at these,_ he remembered, _her and Kane._ "Do you swear this?"

On the Ground words are not just words. They are a pact deeper then blood. On the Ark it was easy to ignore words. They were recycled and forgotten in the filters like dust and spores. In this room Bellamy tried to collect himself. Would this be a betrayal? "I swear it."

"You do not look like the boy who was brought here." Her eyes were hard. "Where are the clothes of the Skaikru?"

"They fell apart from use."

"It would be dangerous and foolish to go into Tondc alone. My people only travel in groups. Your people expect you back in half a moon's turn." Bellamy did not react but his heart stuttered. Fourteen days. That was nothing. "In honor of completing your tā moko I will gift you proper attire. Naime has already requested to gift you a ride home." Her mouth twists into a more honest smile. "Come here, man."

When Bellamy walks towards her he feels like he is dreaming. Her hands are cold. They are always cold. Suddenly so close she looks like the women he met in the wooden hall, with the judgement of four kru and the feeling of being adrift in an endless sea. She had been harsh but she had been honest. No one had been so bare with him in a long time.

After she judged him to be close enough, she said, "Turn your back to me. Kneel." 

He did.

"Close your eyes." The door to the room was locked. The key was around Jefsun's neck. It seemed too far. The floor underneath him was hard. He closed his eyes. "I will return you whole. This is something you have not been since you came to the ground." Bellamy could hear her pull a knife. He did not flinch. "Tell me, man. In this darkness do you see the tunnel?" He could imagine it, the dampness, the stink of metal and fear. It did not smother him. The memory passed over him like water. "Do you feel the chins? Do hear the screams of the people?" Her voice was soothing. His head felt lighter. There was a warm breath across his scalp. "These were things that shattered you. I know there are ones I will not learn. Childhood it full of jagged things. Can you visit them now, man? Do they give you pains?" She ran a hand through his hair, finger-climbed it into place. Jefsun put the knife away.

"Stand up, open your eyes. Turn to me."

Bellamy was surprised when he did that he was taller then her. Her face was still. Her eyes were kinder now.

"There are few things that give me pleasure as much as this." She pulled him into a hongi. "You are free to go Belomi kom Karapukekru. It is an honor to know you."

He nodded then left the room.

* * *

Naime helped him pack. The mare she gifted him was dull and small. "She is strong, trained for battle. When you ride her you will not be underestimated." She traced the lines on his cheeks. It was a new, strange habit of hers. "I promised you the skills to do many things. Others will see these and expect war." She tugged at his new short hair. "They are not wrong. I could have turned out a farmer or a trader. You are not built for peace time. None of us are."

"I thought it is easy to live in war or peace, difficult to move between?"

She dropped her hands. "Those are words for a child. You have put aside those things."

"Jefsun expected me to stay or leave for good."

"So did I. What did you promise?"

"That if the Skaikru are destroyed I will return and fight for her."

"Not her." Naime poked him hard in the chest. "Them, and us."

"Will there be a war?"

"There is a season for all parts of life Belomi. Reigns rise and fall like we breathe. They will fight over food. They will fight over things. They will fight over peace."

Bellamy rolled his leather armor. In his new clothes he felt almost the same as when he first came. He tried not to think of what the Arkers would think of him. It made his guts feel cold. Naime looked through the weapons he had trained with. She was only going to let him take two - a long blade and a double edged knife. The knife was strapped to the saddle. The mare would not have a name until he got to know her.

"That's stupid."

She chuckled. "Are we not all?" She tucked a sharping stone into his bag. Finally she selected the right blade and adjusted the holster on his belt. It felt secure on his hip.

"Keep to the trail. Do not speak to anyone without bare blades." Naime helped him mount. He planned to take the mare around, get a feel for the seat. There was a few more days until he needed to go. Maybe he would try and see the ocean. He knew it was truly too far, but it did not hurt to dream. She rested a hand on his thigh. "I expect you to win and to live, Belomi."

"Yes."

"I heard that the one you call Siggy took news of your return to your heda. They plan to meet you at Tondc. You cannot enter there."

The mare shifted under him. "Why?"

"Until you walk through the gates of Jaharein and are welcomed as Skaikru, a Karapukekru in Tondc would be seen as challenge. Jefsun has refused to go to the Lexia's round talk. We have been barred from the city for that time."

"So, what? I miss them completely?"

"You must get to them before they reach the city."

Bellamy looked down on Naime. There was a drumming in his chest and the drumming was fear. "That may not be possible."

She dug her fingers into his leg. "I did not train you for the possible. I trained you for victory." The sun was hot on his head. Naime pointedly looked up. Her eyes squinted in the glare. "You must go. Now."

He left at a gallop. The long blade tapped at rhythm. It felt like running away. 

* * *

 Bellamy skirted Tondc by heading west. He rode hard during the day and let the mare walk through the night. At night he kept the glow of the city to his right. 

The trails were full. Some women who could have been Siggy's kru watched him pass with hard eyes. The few children he saw avoided him. 

The fifth night he was close enough to see the walls. Since the destruction from the mountain the wood was topped with metal as if to say  _come and see_. He named the mare Hoa. Bellamy was never good at names. Maybe he used up that skill with Octiva. Hoa was his friend, after a fashion. She was the one who noticed the smoke in the darkness and set her ears back. 

Bellamy slipped off. He crept forward. There was a small group of men, no more then five. They carried guns. With cut hair and symbols on their arms there was little doubt who they were. Then Briggs stepped into the light of the fire. Bellamy pulled back. It would look suspicious if he came in quiet. He settled onto Hoa and let her body announce them. The guard looked up. A few reached for their guns. It took Bellamy a few long seconds to recognize Milles.

Before he could speak one of the men loudly chambered a round. Bellamy let his hand drop to the long blade.

Briggs waved the guard off. "We come in peace." The way he spoke gonasleg was different then the Karapukekru. It sounded flat. Bellamy was so thrown he just nodded.

He didn't know what else to say. He settled for, "Hello Briggs."

Briggs blinked. He looked as confused as Bellamy felt. He had imagined his homecoming so many times that the fact it was happening seemed unreal. Briggs hesitated, then said, "Why don't you join us. You're gonasleg is very... good."

Milles nodded from his side of the fire. 

Bellamy slid off Hoa and untied his cloak. They must have noticed the Skaikru cut of the clothes, the lack of layers. As he tied bundled the cloak to the saddle in partied moments Bellamy asked, "Where is Abby Griffin?"

He heard all the guns chamber behind him.

"Why do you want to know?" Briggs liked to lower his voice when he was threatening. Naime had laughed at Bellamy the few times he tried it. "Your message is in you face and your name. Let them see you and draw on their own fears."

Bellamy patted Hoa then pulled free some dried meat. Milles seemed to like it, as far as he could remember, and being nice wouldn't hurt. "Well," he grinned as he stepped towards them, "she is my heda."

He saw Milles almost drop his gun. Briggs jerked like he had been whipped. "Bellamy?"

"It's good to see you Briggs."

"They let you go?"

Bellamy looked at the other Skaikru. "Did Abby not tell you? Siggy brought the news from Karapuke."

"Where's that?" Briggs peered into the darkness like he could spot it between the trees. 

"South of here. Ten days ride, give or take. I've been there for almost a year."

"Did they do that to you?" Milles' voice was horrified. Bellamy tore apart the meat and handed him a strip. Milles did not eat it.

"It was a condition of my training."

Briggs swallowed hard. "Come on, take a seat." The guard shuffled to make room for him. Briggs took a pull from a canteen. Then he said, "Abby is three days north, coming along the main road."

Bellamy could make it in one. "Alright."

"You could come with us to Tondc." Milles smiled but he couldn't seem to look at Bellmay's face for long. It made his skin itch. _How awful must it look, how alien._ That was what Abby wanted. Penance.

"I need to go back to Jaharein."

"Where?"

"The crash site. The..." The word alluded Bellmay. "Where you live. I have to pass through the gates before I go anywhere else."

"Why?" Briggs still looked concerned.

"Until I do I'm still kom matawaka Karapukekru and Karapukekru are not allowed in Tondc."

"No offence, but even if you walk though our gate I doubt anyone would think you were anything but Karapukekru." The guard seemed to pity Bellamy like he was crippled.

The meat was dry and sweet. "I earned them at least." He wasn't hungry so he gave the rest to Milles. "It was good to see you." Bellamy offered.

"You as well, kid." The endearment was awkward.

"I'll cross the gate and come right back. no more then four days. Jefsun told me about things brewing to the north. Abby will want to know."

The let him go without saying goodbye.

 

 


	25. Chapter 25

Octavia pushed the branches away from her face. Harper was at her side, coiled tight and gun ready to fire. In the near distance Abby Griffin slept. They crept after the group for days.

The grounder Siggy had lent herself and three of her kru to the convoy. Clarke had come to Octavia with a wooden smile and said her brother coming home.

That was a lie. She knew what happened to people who did not change. They were destroyed. Bellamy was his own person. He wouldn't be bent or twisted into something he wasn't. Going to see Lincoln's mother cleared her eyes. She would love him but she could not change him, could not rub the ground from his skin.

"What do you want to do?" Harper was shaking. Octavia shuffled the guilt aside and draped her jacket over the other girl's body.

"When we get closer to Tondc we figure out where he was taken and we free him."

Harper set her jaw but asked, "Will there be war?"

"Maybe. But he should have never been punished. This is all the council and her."  
Theere was the thinnest edge of dawn bleeding into the sky.

"Do you hear that?"

Octavia nodded. There was a lone rider coming in hard. The sleepers quickly woke, scrambling for weapons.

The watch doused the embers. There was a pale cast to the forest. Morning was coming in ernest.

The rider came around the bend in the trail. He wore no cloak. She knew that shape, the broad shoulders and shaggy hair. She was running forward without thinking. Harper tried to grab her with brittle fingers. Someone was screaming her brother's name.

"Bellamy! Bellamy!"

She passed Abby and Siggy and the guard. No one tried to stop her. The joy beating her chest was enough to split her ribs open. He pulled the horse to a sliding stop and fell into her arms. He was so much taller. The handle of his sword dug into her side and he was petting her hair and whispering her name. She couldn't stop crying.

The manic joy slowed. Octavia shuffled a little and did not pick up her head. Bellamy was talking to someone else, his arm still right across her shoulders. Holding her close. He smelled like the road.

"... To the north. Lexia may want to treat but most of the krus in the south don't trust her. Jaharein is in a dangerous place."

"You came to tell us this?" Siggy did not sound welcoming.

"Yes. I know you doubt me. I haven't returned to Skaikru, not yet, but I can pass though the gates be back in less then a day."

"The horse could die."

Bellamy shrugged. "I'm not allowed into Tondc as I am now."

Octavia tightened her fists in his shirt. "You're not going anywhere."

Abby spoke up. "I can vouch for you."

"The Rite of the Reclaimed." Siggy suggested.

"Would that be allowed?" Bellamy sounded curious but not confused. Octavia had never heard of it.

"Has it been more then two turns since a heinous act?"

"Yes." He was prying her fingers off him. "I need you for this O. Come on. Vouch for me."

"Okay." She stepped back and wiped her eyes. He was grinning at her. There were lines all over his face. Thin, curling marks and she could see the scars where the skin was opened and ink rubbed in.

"Oh, Bell." She would not cry again. He had been bent out of shape, contorted. "What did they do to you?"

He took her hands. "They helped. They cleared my mind, if you can believe it. I'm okay. I'm so sorry I left." His hands were rough. Some of his nails were cracked. He smiled the same.

Abby looked horrified. Octavia felt a stab of cruel pleasure. This choice should torment her every time she saw Bellamy's face. Her guilt would never be enough.

Siggy snapped off a branch. Her brother took it and bit down hard. The grounder gestured Octavia over.

"You will be the one to reclaim him on behalf of your family. Your heda will reclaim him on behalf of your kru."

"What do we to do?" Abby was looking at the stick between Bellamy's teeth. Octaive imagined them having to beat him or stab him like Lexa's old second. Blood for blood.

  
"You will retell him every fault. If he tries to speak in his defence the stick will fall. He must leave and try again in a year. If he fails twice he will be put to death."

"Sounds fair." Abby sized him up. Octavia took time to do the same. He did not look worried. At his sides his hands hung open and relaxed.

Then Abby began. "You tried to kill Jaha, the leader of your people. Since you have come to the ground you have brought nothing but death and suffering." Her tirade washed over Octaiva like rain. It couldn't touch her and it wouldn't touch her brother. They did what they had to do. They survived. When Abby ran out of words she was shaking but dry eyed.

Octavia knew what she had to say. It would hurt but maybe once this rotten splinter was removed they could heal. "You left me."

A few tears fell from Bellmay's eyes. He did not blink but stared right at her. She wiped at her own eyes and kept talking.

"You didn't try to say goodbye or let me know. For the first time in my life you abandoned me."

He nodded. There was drool leaking around the stick and a mucle in his jaw ticked, but he did not try to speak.

She had to end it. For both of them. For Lincoln. For the hundred. "I forgive you."

Siggy pried the wood from Bellamy's mouth. Octavia could see the cuts from his teeth. The grounder whispered something. Bellamy nodded. The she turned to Abby and asked, "Will you welcome back this man through your gates? He has suffered the forgiveness of his deeds."

"I will." Abby's voice carried. There was an awkward pause.

"Ask him to announce himself before the kru, so he may be recognized." Siggy prompted.

Abby cleared her throat. "Announce youself before the Skaikru, so you may be recognized." It carried.

Bellamy coughed hard. Harper handed him a canteen. He took a deep drink. "I am Belomi kom Skaikru." Then he repeated it in another language. It didn't sound like what Lexa or the Trekru spoke. Siggy clapped her hands.

"It is done."

They cleaned the site and turned south.

The guard and Harper were eager to talk to Bellamy again. He was kind but reserved, turning questions about him onto where he had left or what he had done. Octavia kept close to him. His horse, which he called Hoa, was very soft. Siggy had clicked her tounge when she ran a hand down the strong straight legs. "This is from a pure thread. Did Naime really train you herself?"

"Yes. She was very good." The way he spoke was akward. Sometimes he would forget a word and argue with Siggy in Trigedasleng they came up with one that was close enough.

Octavia noticed that the other grounders gave Bellamy, by extension her, a wide berth.

"What's going on?"

Harper picked at a loose thread in the sleeve of her shirt. "Well, even though he looks like Bell, he kinda doesn't. And the," she waved a hand over her own face, "are unnerving."

There was trouble at the gates of Tondc. Abby bullied them though, waiving around the Skaikru name. "We were invited by Lexa herself. Will you deny one of my people entry?"

The hesitation was enough. Siggy was grinning through the whole exchange. Somehow they had beat Briggs and his troop down. Siggy offered to wait for them. When she caught Octavia's eye she winked. 

Kane was waiting in an antichamber. Most of the Skaikru were led to lodgings only yards away.

"Are you ready?" He was asking Bellamy. Her brother nodded.

Octavia smothered the urge to take his hand. A gona opened a heavy door and they entered the chamber. There were distinctive groups, krus from the deserts and the plans. She recognized a banner from She'ia's region, the curved bowl of a ram skull on a blunted spear.

Lexia sat on a low throne. Her eyes were ringed with dripping darkness. "Welcome, Skaikru." Her light eyes flickered over Bellamy. They rested on Abby. There was a touch of disdainful temperance in her expression. "Where is Clarke?"

"At our camp. We have come at your invitation."

"Is she not your heda?"

Kane rocked toward on one foot. "Our people share our power. Everyone has a voice."

Lexia's laugh was short and barking. "Not everyone." There was some shuffling around the room as Lexa stood. She approached slowly. Octavia could see the tight thread of strength in the lines of her arms.

She stopped close enough to observe the four of them. "I have heard of your attempts to become part of our life on the ground. You sent Belomi to the Karapukekru, did you not?"

"He was allowed to choose." Abby's protest was hollow.

"He was forced out of your kru because you believed he failed you. I know about the low men and what Clarke has done to the North. The Ice Queen is from a line of enemies to my people and to yours. For the first time in living memory the Louptribu have offered the Nations a pact. But now you know his worth you take him back?"

"His worth?" As Kane spoke Octavia saw Bellamy shudder, just once.

"He was trained by Naime." There is a hiss from the crowd. Siggy knew Naime, Octavia remembered. She swore that Bellamy would be alright. Lexia stood close to her brother but her voice did not lower. "Trained by the general of the Koru, came here with the marks of a gona and on a worgapa, and you expect me to believe that your heda took you back in through the kindness of her skaikru heart?

"I did. There was the Rite of Reclaimed. Is that not enough?"

"Is that not enough?" Lexia's voice was bitter. "It is not. The Kora are a loose collection of peoples who worship their own deeds. They carve the memory into their skins. He has been chosen to fight for them. When will you sky-children open your eyes. You know nothing here. Skaikru live and die as small things. You reclaimed what you rejected, heda. Few would be self-righteous enough to do such a thing." She liked at Bellamy. Her eyes were like glass. "Or foolish enough to get back."

He did not move. Lexia touched a forefinger to his chest. "Did you give yourself to the Skaikru fully?"

Bellamy nodded.

"Then," she sighed. "You can not speak to me about Jefsun's thoughts on the matter between our people."

"My people are the Skaikru, heda."

"So they are." Lexia patted his shoulder. "You have done well." There is no warmth in her gaze.

Kane shuffled them to the side. The are soon absorbed into the masses around the room. The krus move subtly to avoid them. Octavia can see the stress pulling at the corners of Abby's mouth.

"This is good." Kane whispered. Octavia wondered if he was talking to himself. She was not comforted. 

**Author's Note:**

> I love the world of The 100 and want to expire a bit more of the complex world the the show inhabits.


End file.
